I See Red
by Lia-Osaka92
Summary: Two important things happened to Victor Nikiforov the night he won his fifth Grand Prix Final gold. The first: He met Japanese skater Yuuri Katsuki and accidentally offended him. The second: A red string appeared on his finger
1. Chapter 1

**I See Red**

 **(and we connect)**

" _He's also crushed the free skating event! It will be the fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final victory for Russia's Living Legend, Victor Nikiforov! Nikiforov is now 27 years old, so there's been some speculation about his retirement this season, but his masterful performance has definitely blown those rumors away."_

It's the fifth time in a row that Victor has gold hanging from his neck after the Grand Prix Final. For some reason, the metal itself isn't as exciting as it once was. Yakov's already yelling at him and Yuri won't listen to his comments about his lousy step sequences. Something feels dull and grey about this, and it shouldn't. When had he lost it, the passion, the fire that kept him warm and alive atop the ice?

He feels eyes on him. It's a feeling he's used to after being in the spotlight for so long. He turns to find a boy, Asian (Chinese? Korean? Japanese? Victor's never been able to tell), black hair, glasses, short and slender, big eyes –not close enough to discern their color-. He looks young, not a day older than 20, but Cao Bin's 28 and some days he looks like he could be Yuri's age, so Victor's long given up on trying to guess people's ages. Victor recognizes the Japanese reporter behind the boy –can't remember the name, but has seen him around enough- which gives him a possible clue of his nationality. Maybe he's with the media, maybe this is his first event. There's awe and wonder in his big eyes (really big. Pretty, even), so regardless of whether he's media or not, he's a fan for sure.

The boy's eyes meet his and he flinches, as if ashamed to be caught staring. Victor isn't fazed. The room's almost empty and Victor's bored, might as well.

"A commemorative photo? Sure."

Victor feels an odd pull at his heart and an even weirder one at his right pinky finger, but he pays it no mind.

The boy inhales sharply and his eyebrows pinch, something that looks like hurt flashing through his eyes (they're a rich, warm brown, Victor can tell now). And then he turns his back on Victor and walks away.

The tug at his heart is sharper, and his pinky finger is numb. When he looks down, there's a red string tied to it. Victor's confused. He pulls on the thread and feels it tense, as if it's tied to something else on its other end. His eyes follow the red string and find it disappearing around the (possibly) Japanese boy's hand. Victor doesn't understand anything at all and he can't do much but watch as the boy walks away.

"Oi, that was rude, even for you."

"Eh?"

Yuri's brow is scrunched in a frown. "He's the loser that bombed hard and placed last in singles. Geez, at least know who you're competing against."

Victor is still very confused, but when he looks back up, the boy is gone.

The red string is still tied on his finger.

* * *

Victor wakes up the next day and looks at his hand, convinced there'll be nothing there.

There is. It's red and soft, about two millimeters thick, and Victor might be losing his mind after all.

Last night he discovered that Yakov can't see it. Yuri can't see it. Mila can't see it. Chris can't see it. Only Victor can. He's tried rubbing his eyes, tried closing them one at a time to see if maybe it was some bizarre defect on his retina or something. But of course it isn't because he can touch it, feel it. At his wit's end, he tried to tie it around Yuri's forearm and tug, see if that worked. He got a scowl and a "did you finally lose it, old man?" for all his trouble, as Yuri's arm slipped through the red string as if it weren't there.

Afterwards he'd spent hours trying to untie it, but there is no visible bow to be pulled loose, it's like it was forged around his finger. He pulled it like a fishing line to see what it was at the other end that kept the thread constantly tense, but gave up once he had about five meters (give or take) tangled over his bedsheets. Then he tried to follow it, but had only gotten as far as the hotel door before realizing how ridiculous it was. He even tried cutting it, but when he did, he felt excruciating pain in his chest. And it didn't make sense at all, that using scissors to cut through this phantom red string would make him feel like his heart was being squeezed into dust, but he decided not to try that again and convinced himself that it was because it hadn't worked anyway.

In the meantime, he'd looked into the boy –Yuuri Katsuki, his mind supplies- that somehow had started all of this. Japan's top figure skater in the senior male division, first time at the Grand Prix Final, recently turned 23 years old (not a boy after all), trained in Detroit. Youtube provided him with videos of his performances: enchanting step sequences and beautiful spins –the form of his camel spin was particularly lovely- but there was tenseness to his figure that had him fail most, if not all of his jumps. Ended dead last, and by a wide margin. Victor stayed up late looking for videos of his previous Grand Prix Series competitions and was surprised to find how much more confident he'd looked back then. What went wrong at the Final then? Victor finds himself intrigued to say the least.

What's even more intriguing is that he can see a red thread on Yuuri Katsuki's videos too. Of course, between the speed of his moves and the low quality of the videos, it's not very clear where exactly it's coming from, but he sees it twist and loop around his body when he spins (how are his spins so good, how did he do so poorly when he exudes music on the ice), yet never getting in his way. It's definitely there, but no one comments on it at all. He googles on it a little too: "red string + yuuri katsuki" plus some other variations, but nothing comes up. In this day and age, getting the "no search results" screen is a rarity, and yet here he is.

He briefly considers going to the man himself to ask because this is driving him mad. He _is_ Victor Nikiforov after all, he could surely get the receptionist to give him Yuuri's room number with a well-placed wink and a flip of his hair. But he decides against it, because really, how is he supposed to ask? "Hey, can you see this red thing on my finger that magically appeared when you ignored me yesterday?" Maybe he'll ask if he'd used some secret Japanese ninja technique to tie this phantom string to Victor's finger… for some reason. Maybe that sounds just a teeny-tiny bit racist, so maybe it was a better idea not to ask at all.

Hours go by in between watching Yuuri Katsuki's videos, as old as he can find them, to confirm that yes, the string is indeed there, even in the grainiest footage, and experimenting with his own string. If he puts it under water it does get wet, but it dries within seconds. He briefly considers trying to burn it, but his experience with the scissors discourages him, and he discards any experiment that might seem an attempt to destroy it. Since he can't untie it, he tries to slide it off his finger, but it's fruitless, it really is as if it's been weaved into his skin. He pulls on it once more until he gets enough on his hands to loop around his arm, seeing if it'll cut his blood flow (why he's trying this is anyone's guess, and he hopes no one catches him doing this because he definitely feels like a mad man at this point), but strangely, no matter how tight he holds it around his flesh, it never quite hurts. Yet, he feels it, soft and even warm, almost comforting.

Mad, he's definitely gone mad.

Yakov finds him still in his underwear, trying to see if he can trip himself with the string, and gives him the strangest of looks before hollering about how the gala starts in fifteen minutes and how he's lucky he goes last.

* * *

Yuuri Katsuki does not attend the gala and Victor is mildly affronted. On second thought, he can understand why, his performance yesterday was truly disastrous, it's natural that he doesn't want to come near the ice and relive the experience. But now that Victor has seen him and what he can do, he wishes to give some words of encouragement (he _did_ make it to the top six of the entire world after all) and apologize for not recognizing him (in his defense, he barely knows the kid who was to his left on the podium, and he remembers the name because it's two letters only and the kid won't stop yelling it and making silly poses. Youngsters these days). And most importantly, he wants to confirm what is this demonic string that's literally testing the limits of his sanity and whether it is truly connected to Yuuri.

When changing into his costume, Victor notices he has no problem sliding his arms into the sleeves, the string doesn't tangle or get caught anywhere. And even more surprisingly, it doesn't get in his way at all during his exhibition. He was mildly scared he would trip over it, injure himself and find a tragic end to his career, and for that, his first few steps are shamefully hesitant, almost clumsy. But once he gets into the spins, he sees the string twirling around him, always giving him complete freedom of movement, and before he knows it he's doing a spontaneous quad loop (Yakov's going to chew on him for this later, he was supposed to wait until next season to unveil it), the string wrapping around his body, as if trying to protect him (he's gone mad, completely mad, invisible inanimate objects do not have independent wills, _get a grip Nikiforov_ ).

* * *

Victor isn't too excited to attend the post-event banquet party, but he goes without resistance because Yakov won't stop yapping at him about sponsors and whatnot.

He tells himself he's only slightly disappointed to find Yuuri Katsuki isn't there either, even though he's arrived fashionably late. He'll have to wait for Worlds after all. Hopefully he'll have shaken off the disappointment of this loss by then. At least that gives him something to look forward to for—

"What's wrong, Yuuri? You look so glum. Have you had anything to drink yet?"

It's only Victor's most primal sense of dignity that keeps him from whipping his head around at the sound of the heavy Italian accent. Instead, he peeks over his shoulder as discreetly as possible to see Yuuri Katsuki slumped over, looking as gloomy as ever, wearing the ugliest necktie Victor has ever laid eyes on, coach Celestino Cialdini's arm draped around his shoulders.

Now that he has the opportunity to get a good eye on him, Victor feels a little less guilty about not recognizing him yesterday. He's like a completely different person off the ice. Big glasses making his downcast eyes look bigger, bangs falling in disarray over his forehead, and the body language of someone who wishes to disappear into the ground. He's cute, Victor decides, would be moreso if he didn't make such a pitiful picture of self-deprecation.

There's a tug on his finger, which reminds Victor of the (initial) source of his interest in Yuuri Katsuki. He quickly follows the strand of red with his eyes and finds it, indeed, ending somewhere around Yuuri's right hand. Given his state of obsession with it, Victor's surprised he doesn't jump at Yuuri on the spot to try and unveil the mystery. No, he holds himself back and waits for Celestino to give Yuuri some space, for Yuuri to mingle a little and get into the spirit of the party before assaulting him with what might be the strangest hallucination anyone's ever heard of.

Unfortunately he gets tangled in formalities with ISO representatives and by the time he manages to step away from their boorish conversation, the only thing Yuuri has mingled with is champagne. _A lot_ of champagne. Victor does not presume to know Yuuri's alcoholic tolerance, but it's also barely been an hour and there are already fourteen, no fifteen empty flutes in Yuuri's vicinity and this does not bode well at all.

But Victor discards that concern when he gets a clear view of Yuuri's right hand (holding the sixteenth flute, jesus) and the way the red string unmistakably curls around his pinky finger. His curiosity overrules his caution and he shuts his eyes for a moment to go over what he's going to say ' _Hey, Yuuri Katsuki, right? I was horribly rude to you yesterday, my deepest apologies. Now would you happen to know what this thing in our fingers is?_ ' Yes, that sounds perfect, and it only took him three speedy mental rehearsals to get rid of the 'ninja magic' part of the question.

He snaps his fingers and takes a step to where Yuuri is probably nursing the seventeen—

"Y'think y're so greeeaaat ev'ryone wants a _photo_ with you, huh?"

Victor did not, in fact, expect Yuuri to approach him first, especially not with that defiant look in his eyes (where did his glasses go), slurring words in half English, half something else (Japanese, is Victor's educated guess), his offensively ugly necktie rumpled inside his jacket pocket rather than hanging from his neck, thank god, the first button of his shirt undone.

"Uh…"

"Th' great Veeector Niki..nilifor… ugh… can't bother knowin' th' com'tition? No one's competition for ye's what y'saying?"

"I'm sorr—"

"I'mma show the great Victor some comp'tition alrigh'."

And with that he's gone, staggering, pouring champagne into his mouth straight from the bottle (oh god), yelling for the Russian Punk and something about "wanna' see me retire, dontcha, brat."

* * *

It will forever remain a mystery to him how his plan to apologize to Yuuri and ask about this red string on his finger had somehow ended with him taking photos of drunk Yuuri breakdancing with Yuri -who's clearly way more into it than his failed attempt to escape would've indicated- in the middle of the banquet hall, to the mild horror of the fancy people and the amusement of the younger guests (Mila looked positively ecstatic). And Victor honestly doesn't care about the how because he's having the time of his life.

Seeing Yuuri Katsuki dance like this –improvised, uncoordinated, his shirt riding up his stomach when he spins upside down on the floor-, feels like the first breath of fresh air he's had in ages. He's intense and so _alive_ that Victor soon finds himself ditching the camera and just jumping and pumping his fist in the air. His face almost hurts from the wide, excited grin that pulls at his cheeks.

The red string dances with Yuuri, like the ribbons of a rhythmic gymnast, making beautiful curves and shapes, twirling to the beat of the music. Victor almost feels it pull at his finger, as if trying to invite him to join them.

Before he can make a decision about it, the song ends and Yuri crashes, exhausted, clothes disheveled, and admits his defeat (expected, he's young and doesn't have the stamina). Victor is mildly disappointed that the show has ended, but at least now he can talk to Yuuri who has hopefully sobere—

"Where's the silver medal? Giacometti!"

Oh boy.

* * *

Victor wishes to revise his previous statement. Yuuri Katsuki isn't cute (okay, he is, especially when he's smiling). But Victor's fairly certain that the word 'cute' can't be applied to a man hanging from a stripper pole (he wishes he was innocent enough to wonder where that came from, but he knows Chris too well), 85% naked save for his socks and his briefs (and that necktie that will now haunt Victor's dreams), pouring champagne over his and Chris's toned sweating bodies.

So, revising, his sober cuteness nonwithstanding, Yuuri Katsuki is handsome, gorgeous, stunning, absolutely captivating, with burning eyes that command the entire room's attention, as well as the nicest butt (and it's a bit of a cliché for figure skaters to have prominent behinds, but Yuuri truly takes it to the next level) and a pair of hard trained thighs that are taking Victor's mind to places it shouldn't be going. And even if Chris is clearly the most proficient on the pole, Victor's eyes are completely fixated on Yuuri as he stretches, spins, wraps his legs around the pole, holds all of Chris's weight on his one arm and dips him while suspended from the pole (why is this of all things in life that makes Victor jealous of Chris for the first time in ten years?).

The fact that the red string has chosen this performance to wrap around Yuuri's naked limbs, bright scarlet against soft milky flesh, just adds an extra layer of sinful eroticism, at which point Victor is done worrying about whether the thing is a hallucination because if it is, it's the best hallucination ever and he doesn't want it to disappear.

* * *

Another thing Yuuri Katsuki has is apparently endless stamina, because he's managed to outdance Chris too. And he also apparently has a high retention of alcohol, because even after all that exercise he's still inebriated off his mind, insisting on shedding his own clothes no matter how hard others have tried to coax him back to decency.

He's now wearing only his shirt –his pants nowhere to be found since he danced Yuri to the ground- and that offending necktie that somehow refuses to disappear from Victor's sight, now going as far as finding its way atop Yuuri's head.

Not that Victor has much time to ponder on the issue because next time he blinks, Yuuri's arms are wrapped around his midsection, hands clutching tight at the back of his designer jacket (and he's warm, no, hot from all that dancing, and Victor _burns_ ), his hips wiggling against Victor's thigh, and babbling in what's definitely Japanese, of which Victor cannot understand a single word. It doesn't matter though, because Yuuri then looks up at him, big brown eyes now shielded behind glasses again (the logistics of Yuuri's dressing and undressing are as mystifying as his dancing talents), shining with excitement and innocent hope that doesn't match the sultry seduction he displayed on the pole, a wide smile on his lips and Victor feels it _there_ , the sharp tug at his finger and his heart, the tightest yet, but it doesn't hurt at all, it's beautiful and intense and it makes him float.

"Be my coach, Victor!"

Yuuri flings his arms around his neck and Victor's breathe catches, his face grows warm, his soul sings.

 _This._

This is _it_.

Not waiting for Victor's answer, Yuuri staggers back to the dance floor and starts dancing again, not as wild as the pole or the breakdancing, more traditional steps and glides to a beat only he can hear because some party-pooper bigwig turned off the music after Chris had collapsed off the pole.

Victor watches Yuuri, mesmerized. Just like when he skates, there's a musicality to the way he dances that almost makes melodies erupt in Victor's mind just from watching him. The red string seems to be hearing the music too, and it moves and twizzles accordingly, a perfect harmony with Yuuri's body.

Yuuri shoots a glance at him then and quirks an eyebrow, ever so defiant and there's something absolutely delicious about it.

"How long are you planning to keep that kid waiting? I'm sure he's earned the right to challenge you at least?"

Victor turns to look briefly at Chris, who's still in his underwear, although he looks re-energized by the champagne in his hand.

"Huh?" His eyes are back on Yuuri immediately, on the perfect line of his body and the rhythmic clapping of his hands, his fiery eyes magnetic.

"He wants you to join him, you silly. And you've been dying to do just that all night, do everyone here a favor and enjoy yourself for once."

Before he can clarify what exactly that means, Chris has shoved him to the dance floor too, and for the first time in his life, standing a few steps behind Yuuri, he feels awkward. Yuuri is just so natural, his moves uncalculated but confident and beautiful. It's not rehearsed but there's also no hesitation in any sway of his hips or any step or turn, just a perfect, effortless flow of energy and vitality.

Victor does the best he can and tries to follow those moves, let himself be taken by the music that comes from the instrument that is Yuuri's body. It's harder than it looks and he stutters in his first steps, but then Yuuri notices him and his expression lights up, grinning wide and it's like the whole room brightens.

 _I found it._

Victor isn't quite sure what exactly _it_ is just yet, but he knows by the fluttering of his heart that Yuuri Katsuki has it.

The next moment he's being roped into something that feels like a flamenco, and the next one he's bowing his head as if pleading Yuuri to grant him this dance, and the next one he's a _matador_ and his 88,000 ruble jacket is a _muleta_ blood red like the string that links him to Yuuri who's a fierce fighting bull and Victor's never felt more ridiculous but he's also never been so _alive_.

And Yuuri's holding him, leading him, sweeping him off his feet, dipping him down and the rest of the world has ceased to exist, it's just the two of them encased by the scarlet string, growing closer with every turn, laughing, completely lost to each other and a song that no one else can hear. It's perfect and it's magical and Victor never wants this dance to end.

He doesn't know how he's lived all these years without this passion, this unbridled joy, but god is he happy that he won't have to anymore.

* * *

Yuuri Katsuki is gone like the wind the next morning. Chris tells him so when he meets him on the hotel's hallway, where he's been knocking at Yuuri's door for fifteen minutes now (he did help Yuuri's coach carry him back here last night after all).

"But how could he leave like _that_ without telling me?"he whines. Surely Yuuri felt their connection last night, didn't he? How could he up and disappear after experiencing something so earth-shattering?

"Maybe he didn't want to wake you, he had a very early flight. And he looked like he had the _worst_ hangover."

Victor isn't satisfied with that explanation, but what can he do? He ignores the sense of unease dampening his mood and convinces himself Yuuri will call (Victor was mindful of giving him his number, neatly written on a napkin and tucked inside his jacket pocket) and that they'll meet again at Worlds and pick their dance up from where they'd left off and everything would be perfect.

The string on his finger feels eerily still. Victor completely forgot to ask Yuuri about it.

* * *

Yuuri doesn't contact him at all in the two weeks before the inevitable overlap of Russian and Japanese Nationals. Victor consoles himself with his phone's camera roll and the photos he's collected from every guest of the party that could have them, every possible angle of Yuuri on the pole, Yuuri breakdancing, Yuuri pulling the rug from under Victor's feet and turning his world upside down, and he almost doesn't recognize himself in the man smiling bright and happy in the pictures. He tells himself Yuuri must be focused training to prevent a repeat of the disaster at the Grand Prix Final, and ignores the way the red string tightens on his pinky.

Victor takes gold at Russian Nationals with relative ease, not that anyone was doubting he would. Commentators gush about how his programs feel different this time, like a new spark has been lit in him, like the longing in his free skate has become more hopeful than lonely. He deflects reporters with playful winks and secretive smiles. He's excited to win for the first time in what feels like an eternity because this victory means he's pretty much guaranteed to see Yuuri in March and that thought appeases the quiet worry that's been coiling around him in these two weeks of silence.

When he's back home, he hops on the couch and immediately turns the TV on. Makkachin plops on his lap almost immediately and Victor pets him absentmindedly while he finds his programmed recording of Japanese Nationals (he'd paid a very significant amount just to get the network that would air the event). He's been avoiding any news on the subject, wanting to see it with his own eyes. Surely now, in his home turf, Yuuri would rise to the name of Japan's ace and pick himself up from his loss at the Grand Prix, and he'd become the beautiful, confident artist Victor had been dreaming about for the past two weeks.

Yuuri's the first to take the ice for the short program. That's good because then Victor won't have to pretend to be a good sport and watch the other skaters perform first (surely some of them are talented, but he's so eager to see Yuuri again that waiting even one more minute might kill him). The sight of him on the 52 inch screen is a definite improvement to those tiny low resolution videos he's been getting on his phone.

Yuuri has a hand down on the first jump. He looks unsteady. He lands the triple axel, but barely. His step sequences and spins are enchanting, but subdued, like he doesn't believe he can do them. And then he falls hard on the combination jump, losing the second part.

He lands 6th and Victor frantically tells himself that it's okay while he skips forward to the next day, that he'll recover in the Free, but he's not even half convinced about it when he sees Yuuri's defeated stance as he takes the ice. He doesn't want to watch this, but he does anyway, powers through, with a knot at the base of his throat as Yuuri stops three-quarters through his program after six truly awful looking falls and leaves the rink and collapses on himself the moment he reaches the kiss and cry. The camera doesn't zoom on him, but even from afar Victor can see the red on his eyes and the tears on his face, how he trembles with the effort to hold himself steady only to give in before the scores even come out. Yuuri buries his face in his knees, his body shaking, while his coach tries to comfort him. Victor can't watch anymore and he turns off the TV, his finger numb from the tightness of the string, his cheeks wet and cold.

* * *

The next morning, he wakes up thinking last night was a dream, and he goes to his phone to confirm the obviously more beautiful reality, only to find the official scores and Yuuri's name all the way down to eleventh place. And then it hits him.

Worlds.

Yuuri isn't coming to Worlds.

And if Yuuri isn't coming to Worlds, it means Victor won't get to see him at all.

He shakes the thought off his head. No way. So what if he underperformed a little in Nationals, he still made the Grand Prix Final, the top six of the world! Surely his federation will give him a chance, right? Victor has no idea of how the JSF works, but surely they can be a little lenient, everybody has a bad showing or two, he'll recover by March, definitely.

He curses under his breath, hating fate's design that had made Yuuri forget his phone that night in Sochi. If he hadn't, Victor would have his number and he'd be able to call him, say some words of encouragement, maybe even hop on a plane and pay him a visit in Detroit (he has time before Euros after all), remind him how amazing he is (Victor _knows_ he is, he's watched his videos so many times already) and how he shouldn't give up, how he's dying to compete with him again.

As it is, though, he's left waiting for Yuuri to call him, and he doesn't imagine that's going to be happening soon.

 _It'll be okay_ , he tells himself, _Yuuri will call when he feels better. He'll call and I'll have his number and then we'll meet at Worlds and everything will be perfect, like it was in Sochi,_ and with that comforting thought, he picks up a course on Japanese for Beginners online.

* * *

Yuuri doesn't call.

The year ends, January comes and goes with Euros, which Victor takes half-heartedly, securing his spot in the Worlds team to no-one's surprise. Chris pats his back and says "I'm sorry about your Cinderella." Victor asks him about finding Yuuri's contact information, but Chris shakes his head apologetically.

Victor wonders if he was the only one who felt that their dance in Sochi was special.

In an outburst of madness (he's been having many of them since this red string appeared on his finger) Victor calls the Detroit Skating Center and tries to get a grasp of Yuuri or his coach, but the receptionist is horribly unhelpful, saying coach Cialdini's overseas and apparently not even knowing who Yuuri is.

 _Preposterous, Yuuri's unforgettable._

After the failure, he curls on his bed, hugging Makkachin to his chest and fighting the sting of tears on the corners of his eyes.

* * *

Yuuri's not coming to Worlds.

Victor's gone over the list a dozen times. He scans over Team Japan over and over and over. A mistake, it has to be a mistake. He's one of the most talented skaters Victor's ever seen, there's no way he wasn't chosen. The Japanese Federation must have gotten some papers mixed in. They wouldn't just decide not to send their top skater just because he was hitting a small slump.

He's spent the last few weeks hunting through figure skating fan forums, even some in Japanese that he surfs with google translate, trying to find a clue, news of a sighting, anything really that will let him know where to find Yuuri, but it's fruitless. His social media accounts are quiet and no one seems to know where Yuuri Katsuki is, like he's vanished from the face of the Earth.

Victor sulks through February and March. His fingers often find the red string and stroke it absentmindedly while he withstands Yakov's constant complaints about how he's half-assing it and that he'll screw it if he doesn't focus. He only pays half an ear to Yuri who mocks him for being a 'pathetic lovesick puppy'.

"You met him for like two hours, fucking Christ, snap out of it already.

Victor's never been good at doing what other people want.

* * *

He makes it to Worlds with the conviction that Yuuri will come find him. It's his home country and he's been almost in the dark for three months now, he's had plenty of time to recover and come find Victor.

He tugs at his string and feels that tenseness at the other end, where Yuuri is, and tells himself that it feels a little tighter which must mean Yuuri's closer, not an ocean away but here, waiting to see Victor do his last great performance of the season before making good on that promise made over a magical dance.

(a part of him he loathes knows he's fooling himself).

He's too preoccupied looking for Yuuri in the crowd and half-asses his Short because of that. Still ends with a sizable lead at the top spot. He's bored, bored, bored and not sure why he's bothering at this point. Not even Chris can compete with him anymore. And Yuuri didn't come, has probably forgotten about him already. Maybe giving Victor the best night of his life and then vanishing to leave him alone and miserable was his twisted revenge for not recognizing him after the Final.

The red string's been coiling around his arm since Yuuri's disaster at Japanese Nationals. Victor didn't pay it much mind at first, thought it was just normal to wake up and find it tangled over his fingers, he knew he moved a lot in his sleep. But as the days turned to weeks, he noticed it was progressing. The day of the short program at Euros, it was entangled in his five fingers and had gone on to bind his hand down to his wrist. And no matter how many times Victor tried to undo it, to make it hang loosely from one finger like before, it somehow ended going back without his noticing.

Eventually he'd stopped fighting it, and by now the coil reaches his bicep. It doesn't restrict his movements, but it's just tight enough to be on the edge of hurting, to constantly remind Victor of its presence and of the man that was out there, somewhere, with the other end of the string tied to his finger.

He performs his free program and barely feels anything through it. He's known since day one that there was something missing in this _Aria_ , but rather than getting close to an answer, the program feels more and more incomplete every time. It's also not the first time he feels shackled by one of his programs, but it's the first time the thrill of his blades scratching the ice isn't good enough to make the chains lighter. Today he goes through the motions without much of anything, not even the drive to win, and rather than dance with him like it did with Yuuri, the red string hangs limp by his side, as if channeling Victor's suffocating apathy.

For some reason, the judges like his performance enough to give him yet another gold medal that makes him wonder why he even wanted it to begin with.

* * *

"What do you have in mind for next season?"

 _Anything to do away with this emptiness_ , his mind responds, but he's long learned the importance of filtering his thoughts before opening his mouth, especially in front of the press. Next season? Does he even want a next season? What for?

" _Be my coach, Victor!"_

For the first time in many years, his perfect mask falls off his face and he has no smile to give to the excited reporter. He's been avoiding this question all through the season, and he'd glimmered something that felt like an answer that night in Sochi, but now he feels he's lost something he never even had.

* * *

He struggles to get back on the ice once they return to St. Petersburg. He moves mostly on autopilot as he tries to think of something for next season, because what else is he supposed to do. At moments, he flashes back to Sochi, and finds himself creating steps and moves to mimic those of Yuuri on the dance floor, trying to recreate the beautiful music, his natural eroticism, how effortlessly he owned the entire room with the alluring sway of his hips.

" _Be my coach, Victor!"_

As hard as it feels to perform this new choreography, it's ridiculously easy to imagine Yuuri doing it instead. He knows he's not doing himself any favors by continuing to think of Yuuri, but he can't help it, it's just so easy. He sees Yuuri inside his mind, even hears Spanish guitars and a violin –picking a song turns out to be insanely easy-and the string that connects them hugs his body following the melody.

On the rare times that he manages to push Yuuri out of his mind, he tries to focus on his love for his own art, how his heart used to pound every time he stepped on the rink, how he fed from the crowd's excitement. He thinks of all the blades and boots he's gone through, in his thirst for glory. He brings his hands together as if in prayer and tries to capture that feeling, the 20 years of his life he's devoted to the ice, and the love he's gotten in return.

Neither program feels entirely right, like there's something missing in both of them, and Victor keeps crashing into a wall trying to figure out what that is.

* * *

Victor Nikiforov has always been a hopeless romantic. He believes in love at first sight and fated meetings, and for years he's consoled his lonely heart with the idea that there's someone out there waiting for him, just like he's waiting for them. Everyone who knows him beyond his practiced-for-camera perfection knows this too. Chris never misses the chance to tease him about it. (' _so you don't think ours was a fated meeting? You wound me_.')

After dancing the night away in Yuuri Katsuki's arms, Victor had been convinced that he'd _finally_ had his very own once-in-a-lifetime encounter. The appearance of this red string that connected him to the man that had brought such a wonderful spark of joy to his life only seemed to confirm that.

Four months of silence later, Victor's mostly convinced he's been played, by the universe or Yuuri Katsuki or both. The conviction doesn't ease the pain in his heart.

Today he decides to skip practice, tells Yakov he needs a little break and stays home, hoping it'll help him clear his head off Eros and Yuuri Katsuki that showed him a glimpse of something he couldn't have, so he can focus on Agape and the ice that has given him so much.

He's unwinding on the couch, Makkachin spread comfortably on his lap when he gets the text from Chris. " _You need to see this_ ", and a Youtube link. He clicks on it, and glances at the title waiting for the video to load. Apart from the letters FS in the middle, it's written in Japanese, and although he did try and learn a little, back when he was still excited about meeting Yuuri again, eager to do anything that would bring him closer to the man at the other end of his red string, he dropped it after Euros, when his heart had grown tired of waiting for that call. Languages are too easy to forget if you don't use them.

The video is dated from a few nights ago, the day after Worlds, and yet it has already garnered over a hundred thousand views.

Hushed childlike voices alert him to the fact that the video's begun, so he scrolls back up, curious.

It's Yuuri.

His chest clenches with longing, the red thread tightening around his arm (it's up to his shoulder now).

Yuuri stands on an empty ice rink, eyes closed, wearing training gear. The video is eerily quiet, like he's the only one there. Victor doesn't get enough time to ponder on it for long, because Yuuri starts moving, and when he does, Victor _knows_.

Just like that night, he feels it in his bones.

 _This is it._

The thing that was lacking in his free program, that he's been chasing for months and months without success. It's right here, in the way Yuuri bares his emotions raw on the ice, so fragile, so vulnerable, so innocent. It's beautiful and painfully human. The red string dances with him like it always seems to do, enhancing the curves in his body, adding dramatic flares to his spins, as if it has a will of its own that wants nothing but to make Yuuri beautiful. And Yuuri is so, _so_ beautiful and he skates with his heart on his sleeve, and his body visibly aches with longing.

 _Longing for what?_

 _For who?_

Victor's breathe catches.

Suddenly his heart feels very warm.

His soul sings again like it did in Sochi, his fingers clutching his red string as it uncoils from his flesh, and he clings to it like a lifeline.

It _was_ a meeting of fate after all.

* * *

After rewatching the video twelve more times, a part of him feels he should be at the very least offended. Four months without so much as a smoke signal, and suddenly Yuuri Katsuki has the gall to cause a storm on the internet using Victor's gold winning program –and even if he's downgraded most of the quads to triples, his rendition is _so_ much better than Victor's ever was, which only adds insult to injury. But even through the grainy quality of the video, Yuuri embodies beautiful melodies, not needing any background music to guide his steps, so he can't even bring himself to feel upset, too busy being mesmerized.

The part of him that's been skating and watching other people skate for 20 years nags at the back of his mind. The Yuuri on the video seems like a completely different skater from the man that had failed every single jump in his last two competitions and Victor is so terribly confused.

Why wasn't he like this in Sochi? In his home country's Nationals? He could've medaled in both with ease if he'd shown half the vulnerable beauty he has in this video. He could've made it to Worlds, give Victor a reason to be excited to compete, and then they could dance again and-

He shakes his head and focuses again on Yuuri's truly gorgeous camel spin. It's hard to reconcile this Yuuri to the one he'd seen at Japanese Nationals. Was something going on with his coach? Victor knew of Celestino Cialdini, the man has been in the business for a very long time, has brought multiple students to top class competitions, a good number of them have crowned themselves with medals. He even vaguely remembers speaking to an American skater, long retired now, who'd sung praises of his coach's flexibility and supportive personality.

So why was a knowledgeable coach like Cialdini unable to draw out the potential of someone so vastly talented as Yuuri Katsuki? What was holding Yuuri back?

His mind drifts back to the banquet in Sochi, to Yuuri's unrestrained dancing, and to the Eros music he's been toying with whenever thoughts of Yuuri take his attention away. If he could create a high difficulty program that exploited Yuuri's natural musicality, how would that look on the ice? Would he become as free and lively as he was on the dance floor?

" _Be my coach, Victor!"_

Victor sucks in a breathe. He knows what he wants to do now.

* * *

Yakov is, predictably, displeased to hear of Victor's decision.

Maybe 'displeased' is an understatement, if the way his hollering can be heard over the whole rink is anything to go by.

Victor tries to explain himself, he really does. He's growing stagnant, he needs to try something new, he has a feeling about this and he'll forever regret it if he doesn't follow his heart now. Yakov goes through three of the five stages at a disorderly record speed: Anger ("Are you completely out of your mind?!"), denial ("Right, whatever you say, you'll come back begging in three days time"), anger ("This isn't funny, it's your career we're talking about!"), bargaining ("look, Vitya, you can take some time off, get some rest, stay home with Makkachin") and also more anger ("The only way I'm letting you do something so stupid is after I break both of your legs!").

"Vitya, don't go away, stay here! If you leave now, you won't be able to come back."

Having Yakov almost pleading does make Victor feel guilty, but he tells himself that Yakov too will understand in time, when he sees how beautifully Yuuri can perform next season after Victor has figured out what is it that's keeping him from blossoming. So he says a silent apology and kisses Yakov's cheek, murmuring "Dasvidanya" before heading for the boarding gate, only vaguely hearing Yakov bellowing at his back.

* * *

Victor's been used to traveling for over half of his life, but can't bring himself to enjoy sitting on a plane for fifteen hours straight, no matter how comfortable his executive class seat may be. The constant thought of Makkachin, sedated somewhere in the baggage cabin doesn't make it any easier. He reckons that having his old friend make such long travels is riskier than he'd like, but he absolutely can't leave Makkachin behind if he's planning on coaching Yuuri for the season. He consulted with the vet, who reassured him that Makkachin was extremely healthy and lively for his age and that there should be no problem if proper precautions were taken.

Still, Victor worries. He wishes he could be allowed into the baggage cabin, just to watch his friend sleep and put his heart at ease, but apparently things like arriving on time and making exceptions for a national hero aren't part of Aeroflot's guidelines.

He soothes himself watching Yuuri's video, and it makes his heart thump with anticipation. What will Yuuri say when they finally meet again? Will he have an explanation for not calling back in all this time? Is he as eager to meet again as Victor is? (he has to be, what else would that video mean).

After those thoughts cross his mind, it's hard to taper his excitement and sleep, but he tells himself he doesn't want to look exhausted and ruined for his anticipated reunion with Yuuri.

* * *

Finding where Yuuri actually was became notoriously easy after that video was posted. He just had to browse through sukeota3shimai's other social media (which was run by three little girls, and Victor briefly worried about how that would look in his browsing history) until he found a picture with a location tag: Hasetsu, Saga prefecture, Kyushu. There was not much he could find about this small fisher's town in the far south of Japan, but by browsing through a few hipster traveler's blogs he found that there was an inn called Yutopia Katsuki, which couldn't be a coincidence. They have a website, but it's all in Japanese (and Victor's picked up his studies again these past few days, he wants to impress Yuuri after all, but the sight of an entire page full of foreign symbols is intimidating), and from what he can surmise through google translate, they don't offer online bookings. They do have a phone, but Victor isn't confident enough in his incipient Japanese to hold a conversation without the infallible tourist trick of "pointing at the thing I want".

The moment he steps off the train in Hasetsu, his eyes go to the endless rows of posters showing Yuuri Katsuki wearing his Team Japan tracksuit, reaching out to the distance, with what looks like a samurai castle and cherry blossom trees in the background. He looks _so pretty_ and Victor wonders if it's weird to want one of those posters for himself. Or all of them.

His heart throbs with excitement. He's truly, finally here, only minutes away from finding Yuuri again.

Makkachin's fully awake and jittering by the time they reach the main entrance of Yutopia Katsuki. The sun's barely out and it's snowing today. Victor's surprised, he didn't know it snowed in Japan in April.

He leaves Makkachin outside for a moment, knowing he should at the very least ask if they'd take him and his dog for now. A kind looking middle-aged man greets him at the entrance, introduces himself as Toshiya Katsuki and after fumbling through the language barrier for a few minutes, the man says there's no problem with Makkachin. Victor tries to ask about Yuuri, but the most he gets through their stunted communication is the man pointing enthusiastically at a poster of Yuuri (which looks exactly like the one Victor has safely stored in his suitcase) next to a bowl of very realistic looking plastic food. It's clear as day that this town is proud as can be of Yuuri, and the thought makes Victor smile. At least there are other people who can see and appreciate Yuuri's talents.

Victor tries to casually wave his right hand and gauge if there is any reaction to the red string, but if Mr. Katsuki sees it, he doesn't give any indication about it. He won't directly ask people if they see it, but he's still hoping someone will, just to prove that all of this: the string, Yuuri Katsuki, their magical dance in Sochi, Victor's months and months of waiting for a call that never came, dropping his career to chase after a hunch, wasn't just a massive mistake product of his deranged mind.

The kind man suggests he unleashes the tension of the long trip in their hot springs while they figure out which room he can use. Victor gladly takes him on the offer having no qualms in shedding all his clothes in a room full of strangers. He's never had the opportunity to try this, even if he's been to Japan multiple times, and he's very eager about it.

The steaming water of the outdoor bath immediately soothes the pain and soreness of his muscles, not only from the trip, but any remaining ache from recent practice sessions. Victor feels himself melt into the heat, even releasing a soft moan of satisfaction as his body sinks further into the water.

It hasn't been longer than fifteen minutes when he hears disconcerted yelps and agitated thrashing coming from the indoor baths. At first he thinks of ignoring it in favor of enjoying this wonderful warmth, but that thought vanishes from his mind the moment the glass wall is slammed open. There's a sharp tug on his red string, and Victor knows, before he even looks up that Yuuri Katsuki has just stumbled his way outside.

Victor's heart skips a beat.

It feels it's been ages since he last saw Yuuri. He's gained a little weight, which will be a problem for the whole coaching thing, but he has to admit he doesn't mind the softness in those cheeks. It's cute. Sometimes he gets so enthralled by Yuuri's videos and memories of his riveting dancing that he forgets Yuuri can be cute too.

He wonder if Yuuri's happy to see him, if he'll be so overcome with excitement he'll leap into Victor's arms, dismissing the rules about clothes in the bath, if he'll drag Victor out into another dance. (when can they dance again? God, Victor's dying to dance with him again). Yuuri doesn't look quite happy though, more like shocked, his big eyes blown wider, mouth slightly agape.

"V-Victor?"

He tells himself it's normal to be surprised at first -Victor does live from the thrill of surprising people- and that once the surprise is passed Yuuri will surely smile and-

"What are you doing here?"

That… wasn't quite what he had in mind.

 **To be continued.**

This is for day 6 of Victuuri week "Bonds", the AU prompt "Soulmates". I was supposed to put this up on Saturday so it wouldn't be the millionth red string of fate fic that was posted this weekend, but I was away over the weekend, dragging my older sister into YOI hell (complete success) so here we are *shrug*

I've been wanting to try my hand at a soulmate AU thing since I'm very weak for them and have had this idea on my mind for a while. Now that Kubo has officially canonized them as literal soulmates, I had to put it up.

Fair warning though, I'm going through a lowkey creative slump, and also I want to finish my Kurobas fics already, so I can't promise consistent updates. I already have drafts for half of the chapters, so I'll definitely keep working on it, but I don't know how long it'll take.

In this ignoramus's eye, Yuuri has the prettiest camel spin out of the YOI cast, but who the hell knows if it's actually considered pretty in the eyes of people who actually know about figure skating.

The only thing we actually know about Victor's EX of last year is that he did a quad loop (the only quad he didn't use in Stammi Vicino). I know no one else cares about this but I'm a sucker for worthless details.

I am very firmly opposed to bullfighting but what am I supposed to do when the goddesses give us such nonsense as bullfighting dancing. Also yes, Victor Niliforv lives on in Yuuri's slurred drunk speaking.

The shot of Yuuri folded into himself and crying at the kiss and cry while Celestino tries to console him breaks my heart in a million pieces.

Aaaanyway I hope you enjoy this. Of course I couldn't help myself and ended writing even more hopelessly pining Victor, I'm no good for anything else really. I'll look forward to your comments!


	2. Chapter 2

Victor can hear voices in a language he doesn't understand.

On second thought, it's probably Japanese, but Victor's mind is too clouded with sleep to even try to pick something up.

A sneeze awakens him, and he sniffs before sitting up, Makkachin soft and warm, cradled in his arms. His stomach grumbles and he whines a low "Hungry" before his eyes refocus to find Yuuri sitting at the opposite side of the table.

He does a quick mental recap on everything that didn't go according to plan tonight. For starters, Yuuri didn't jump into his arms the moment they met, nor did he ask him to dance again (God, Victor really, _really_ wants to dance with him again). Then he acted like the notion of Victor being his coach was the most bewildering thing he'd ever heard, even though _he_ was the one who got the idea in Victor's head to begin with. And then he just ran away and sent Mr. Katsuki (who Victor now assumes is Yuuri's father), to give him food and drinks. Victor isn't usually the type to succumb to jet lag, but the warmth of the bath had relaxed his muscles, and being confused about Yuuri's reaction made him weirdly exhausted, so he passed out on the floor shortly after.

Now he's awake, his back a little sore, his stomach rumbling, and Yuuri still looks like he's having a heart attack just from looking at him. There's a woman sitting next to Yuuri and she asks something but it's lost underneath Yuuri's nervous "What would you like to eat?" shriek, like he's afraid anything he says might upset Victor.

Odd, everything about this is odd.

Perhaps, Victor ponders, Yuuri feels ashamed of the admittedly gaudy performance he put on at Sochi –although Victor is sure he made it quite clear that he was enjoying himself like he never had before-. Maybe Yuuri doesn't want his family –and judging by her casual posture, this woman is probably a member of Yuuri's family too- to hear about how he'd climbed on a stripper pole and poured champagne over his mostly naked body. That is quite reasonable, Victor figures, so he decides to keep it casual for now.

"First of all, as your coach I'd like to know what your favorite food is."

Yuuri blushes in response. He looks adorable like this, innocent even, completely detached from the daring young man Victor met on the dance floor. His heart tingles with excitement, he's already getting to know different sides of Yuuri. This might not be going as terribly as it initially seemed.

A plump woman with glasses and big brown eyes comes skipping from the kitchen with a large tray on her hands. The show of genetics is too strong to mistake her as anything but Yuuri's mother. But Victor doesn't stop to think about it because his attention is snatched by the strong smell of the food. The plate in front of him looks glossy with what appears to be egg yolk and grease, terribly unhealthy for sure, and incredibly appetizing.

"Wow! Amazing!"

It smells heavenly. Victor's not a stranger to the world's greatest delicacies, but by the smell alone this already beats out most if not all of them.

He grabs a piece (a worldly man he is, has no problem using chopsticks, which he hopes Yuuri will appreciate) and gives it a graceful bite. And it's like he suddenly reaches illumination because it tastes like something only gods should be allowed to eat. The meat is crunchy but juicy and it melts in his mouth and he's heard of the concept of foodgasm but he's never experienced it until now.

He throws grace out the window and scarves the food down and almost asks for a second serving, but his eyes find Yuuri again, wearing that lovely blush on his cheeks, fidgeting and mumbling "I'm glad you like it". Victor's heart soars realizing he's gotten to share something Yuuri loves, and his appreciation for this divine dish (katsudon, that's what Yuuri's mom called it) only grows.

The woman next to Yuuri (she speaks surprisingly good English and her name is Minako Okukawa, which means she's not Yuuri's family and that fact coupled with the casual closeness she has with Yuuri makes Victor queasy) chuckles and there's a teasing glint to her eyes when she speaks.

"Yuuri gains weight easily, so he was only allowed to eat it when he won a competition."

Victor isn't sure of what takes over him next.

"Oh? So have you eaten this katsudon recently, Yuuri?"

"Yes, yes. I eat it often!"

Ah, maybe it's the petty side of him. The one that waited for a phone call for _four months_ whilst Yuuri was lost to the world somewhere, stuffing his face with delicious food, unconcerned about how the silence had been slowly killing Victor inside.

"Why? You haven't won anything. With that pig-like body, trying to teach you anything would be useless. At the very least, you need to get back to the weight you had during the Grand Prix Final or I can't coach you. Until then, no more katsudon, okay little piggy?"

Rude and savage. Unnecessarily so. He sort of wishes he could take most of it back (Yuuri does need to shed the extra weight, but surely there was a nicer way to say it). And still his vengeful side, the one that doesn't care whether he was having a perfect moment of growing closer to Yuuri, because getting back at him for the months of incommunication and uncertainty was apparently more important, takes a sick kind of pleasure from Yuuri's bewildered, mortified face.

The other side of him –the one that's a grown up man and actually wants to get to know Yuuri rather than push him away with uncalled for insults- is grateful when a young woman –most likely a staffer and therefore, yet another member of Yuuri's family- asks about his luggage, breaking the moment of tension.

This provides him with a good opportunity to make amends, as Yuuri carries all the shipment boxes to the small and quaint room that's been assigned to him. It's smaller than his bedroom back in St. Petersburg, but Victor's heard about Japanese land being expensive due to the country's high population density, and the room itself has a lot of classic Japanese charm, so he won't complain.

"I'm sorry that it's so small. It's a banquet room we weren't using."

Victor's brow twitches slightly. A banquet room.

 _How very subtle of you, Yuuri._

If Yuuri can mess with him, Victor can mess with Yuuri back just as good.

"You look rather anxious. You can pay the coaching fee after you achieve success, so I'll bill you later!"

He winks cheekily. Not that he actually has any intention of charging Yuuri, but if Yuuri can tease him about that banquet where they met, then Victor can be a little bitch about Yuuri drunkenly begging him to coach him.

Yuuri clearly isn't in on the joke because he squeaks and makes a face that says he's making mental calculations of how much he would be charged and how many years of slave-labor it'd take him to pay it back.

Victor cocks his head, puzzled again by Yuuri's reaction, and decides to change the mood once more. After all, they're finally alone, sober and with all the time in the world to get a little more _intimate_. And Victor wants to know _everything_ about Yuuri. Like the kind of rink where he recorded that video, or the things he likes in this town that loves him so, and maybe is there a girl he likes? Victor is not usually insecure in his seduction abilities, but after four months in the cold, followed by Yuuri physically rejecting all of his advances, he's starting to grow concerned. His fingers cup Yuuri's chin and tilt his face up a little, just enough to meet his eyes, and Victor's other hand slides down his arm slowly, a little emphatic until it rests atop Yuuri's, hoping it's evocative.

The touch burns just as it did in Sochi. Victor wonders if it burns for Yuuri too.

"Before we start practicing, we should first build some trust in our relationship."

If Yuuri's still too ashamed to talk about what happened in Sochi, Victor's fine with coding everything under the pretext of coaching, with just about enough sultriness in his voice and tenderness in his touch to make Yuuri aware of what he truly means.

The natural conclusion is that Yuuri darts away from him and up against the farthest possible wall, his face flaming red and twisted with terror.

When he hopped on that plane, Victor had a relatively clear idea of how things would go. He'd find Yuuri who would be ecstatic to see Victor making good on his promise (and would also have a really good reason for not calling in all these months). He would be motivated and ready to start training for next season, to show the world what he was truly capable of, with Victor's help. And maybe they would talk about the beautiful chemistry they'd shared in Sochi, and _maybe_ , just maybe, they'd give it a shot and see where it went. The last part was mostly wishful thinking, but Victor allowed himself to hope nonetheless.

This isn't going as planned at all.

He's only half-joking when he asks Yuuri to sleep together. He's of course not expecting to coerce Yuuri into anything indecent, regardless of what his brain might have been doing these past few months with the memories of Yuuri dancing in various degrees of undress, especially in colder nights. But he's been in Hasetsu for well over six hours and he's only spent less than thirty minutes in Yuuri's vicinity and he's not… sure how to feel about it at this point. He's been waiting for Yuuri so long he needs something to reassure him that the spark of joy he'd felt four months ago wasn't just a product of his imagination. Anything to show that Yuuri wants him in any way, even if just a fraction of how Victor has longed for him.

Yuuri, of course, doesn't even open the door, yelling at Victor to go away.

It hurts more than expected.

His chest feels tight around his heart, and it aches.

He plops down, flat on his back on top of the futon that has been rolled out for him. It's not uncomfortable, but he's not used to sleeping on such a hard surface.

He raises his right hand over his head, his eyes quickly finding the red string on his finger. He realizes he forgot to ask again, and his heart feels heavy. He'd thought this connection _meant_ something, but now… It crosses his mind that staying in St. Petersburg, eternally clinging to the hope that Yuuri would come find him again, might've hurt less than being explicitly rejected.

"Makkachin, are you sure I didn't imagine it all?"

His dog whines softly and wiggles into the futon, looking as confused by the unusual bedding as he was about the material of the floor. Victor reaches for his phone as Makkachin plops to his side, under the covers, his fuzzy fur tickling Victor's naked chest. He thumbs through the photos he collected from Sochi, not for the first time and probably not the last, given how everything's going. The Yuuri in the pictures looks like he's having fun, his eyes sparkling with determination, and he's smiling wide, smiling _at Victor_ , bright and wonderful, like he too, is having the best night of his life.

Victor doesn't understand any of this and his heart clenches again, wishing he could go back to that moment in which everything had made sense for the first time in years.

There's something wet and hot at the corners of his eyes. Makkachin whines.

 _Ah._

He's crying.

Victor's never been much of a crier, for no particular reason other than he never really feels like crying. So it's rather odd to find himself spilling tears over whatever it is that is happening now. The disappointment doesn't feel like it should be strong enough to make him cry.

Maybe he's put so much stock on this, on the excitement that Yuuri showed him when they danced and what he'd perceived as a door to endless possibilities for new and wonderful experiences, that Yuuri's rejection feels like getting the door shut in his face before he even got to walk through it. Maybe he's thinking too much about it, it's just the first day and they'll have ample opportunities to open the door again.

Right?

He cuddles Makkachin closer to his chest, not even bothering to wipe the tears away before letting sleep take over him.

* * *

He wakes up rather early and his petty, vengeful side wakes up with him, probably a reaction to the redness at the corners of his eyes.

 _It's to help him lose the extra weight_ , he tells himself as he makes Yuuri run all the way to his new home rink while he borrows a bicycle from the inn.

Ice Castle is a small, quaint venue, much like everything in Hasetsu. It's of good enough size for one-on-one practice, but Victor knows a coach with more than one student would probably struggle with space. There doesn't seem to be a lot of people there, but the ice looks well-maintained. The staff is enthusiastic and they seem to really love Yuuri, much like everyone in Hasetsu. The three little girls that run the Youtube account where Yuuri's video was posted are there, squealing and bouncing off the walls and one of them has Victor's face on her cellphone cover. The situation is a little surreal. Victor found his way to Hasetsu through poking around on the girls' social media, but apparently they've been stalking his for years. He's not even sure if he should thank them for showing him the way here or if that would be too weird.

He feels overcome by a new wave of vengefulness that ends with him calling Yuuri a pig again (' _brilliant way to make him want to get closer, Mr. Russia's Most Coveted Bachelor_ ' and he'll scream into his pillow about it tonight, frustrated with his own childishness, he's sure) before forbidding him off the ice until he gets back in shape. He convinces himself he's just doing what's best for Yuuri, since he definitely could get injured if he tried jumping with all that extra body fat.

In spite of the mortification that shows on his face after Victor's offhanded insult, Yuuri stays rinkside and watches him go through his programs from last season intently. The feeling of Yuuri's eyes on him and the light pulls on his finger, as if the string was calling him to get closer to Yuuri, almost make him throw away all of his frustration. It's delightful, to finally have a hold of Yuuri's attention. This might still not be a complete failure after all.

Of course, once he steps off the ice, Yuuri almost launches himself as far away from Victor as he can, garbling something about working out. Victor barely holds back on slamming his face on a wall.

* * *

After Yuuri ditched him at Ice Castle, Victor's initial plan was to take a walk and explore the town, but he finds himself much too tired to try to recall any of the Japanese he's studied, and literally no one here speaks a lick of English, so he ends going back to the inn to soak in the onsen and take an afternoon nap with Makkachin before picking up the textbooks he's been using so far.

Yuuri's mom comes by around eight to call him for dinner, and her face brightens when she sees the book in his hands and the flash cards with scrawny attempts at kanas scattered across the floor.

"Thank you for working hard for Yuuri. Ask him to help, he'll be happy!" she says in what Victor figures is her best attempt at simplified Japanese, which she's using in the hopes that he understands. The gesture makes his belly flutter. It's enviable, really, that Yuuri has such a warm and welcoming home to come back to. At the very least, it helps him forget a little of how confusing and frustrating Yuuri himself is turning out to be.

"Yuuri where?" he asks hesitantly, the foreign words sounding strange and harsh in his voice.

Mrs. Hiroko hums and taps her chin briefly. "Minako-senpai's place maybe? At night Yuuri visits Minako-senpai a lot."

Victor seriously, seriously hopes there's a nuance he's missing due to his incipient understanding of the language, because otherwise he doesn't like how that sounds at all.

* * *

Yuuri doesn't come back until well past midnight and barely grumbles he was at Minako's before collapsing into his room, his legs looking like they can barely hold the weight of his body. Victor likes it even less.

In hindsight, it makes sense. It would be natural for Yuuri to act so skittish and fearful around him, like nothing ever happened in Sochi, if he's embarrassed and afraid a girl he has feelings for might hear about it. Minako looks like she has a strong personality and would not take lightly to hearing that Yuuri had not only rubbed his mostly naked body to another man's on a stripper pole, but also personally asked Victor to be his coach wearing no pants and a barely buttoned up shirt and somehow seducing him back to life.

But Victor isn't ready to give up just yet, so the next morning he decides to oversee Yuuri's workout routine, and use it as an opportunity to get more information before he decides how he's going to move forward. Of course, he has a very detailed plan about asking casual questions about Yuuri's life, his hobbies and habits, his family and his career, with more precise questions about any love life he might have, interspersed in between.

However, though, his brain-to-mouth filter seems to have exhausted its active life after the press conference at Worlds, because of course the first thing he asks is not "what are some things you like to do in your free time", but instead "do you have feelings for Minako?"

Luckily, he doesn't even get time to be ashamed of being so transparent in his intentions because Yuuri almost freaks out at the question and shoots it down immediately, as if the mere thought were completely beyond anyone's imagination. Emboldened, Victor asks again, prying as deep as he can to know if there's anyone that may have a special place in Yuuri's heart. With every denial, his grin grows larger, and he finds himself leaning closer, excited, his palm flat on the bench and inching towards Yuuri's, to where their fingers are connected. He tries to switch the conversation as to make it clear he's available as well, just in case Yuuri hasn't picked up on that.

That too, gets shot down before he's even able to say it, and Victor has to quickly shift the topic to the (admittedly fascinating) samurai castle that's towering behind them, just so Yuuri won't shut him away completely again.

Small steps.

* * *

After two days, Victor can say with certainty that Yuuri Katsuki isn't at all the wild and sexy party animal that he'd met in Sochi. Now that he has a clearer picture of the situation, he needs a little time off to regroup and rethink his strategy and expectations. So he decides to leave Yuuri to his own devices while he sheds the extra weight, and in the meantime, he'll get to know this little community, get acquainted with the locals, try to improve his Japanese so he can actually survive in this faraway rural town, furnish his room properly because this sleeping on the floor business, while certainly not nearly as uncomfortable as he'd imagined it to be, isn't really working for him, and decide what he wants to do moving forward.

At the very least, coaching Yuuri is something he's determined to do, so every morning he heads over to the rink. During his practices he shifts between Eros and Agape, trying -mostly with no success- to fill in the blanks, to complete either of them. He wants to give Eros to Yuuri and hopefully make him see just how magical that night had been for him, maybe make him more receptive to Victor's advaces but he can't seem to get a full grasp of it. And Agape feels even further away. It's supposed to manifest his love for skating and for everything he's gotten out of it, but he's felt so disconnected from the ice for so long it's hard to really find the way to express it. His red string hangs lifelessly by his side, nothing like the twirls and loops it did in Yuuri's videos, and it frustrates him.

But even if Yuuri doesn't want to pick up on their dance, Victor still plans on fulfilling their promise from that night. Seeing Yuuri working so hard every day only serves to cement that decision. If nothing else, Yuuri is clearly doing everything in his power to get back in shape and start practicing for real as soon as possible. Every morning they leave together, Victor in his bicycle, Yuuri jogging behind him. Victor stays at the ice rink, Yuuri continues on his run all the way to Hasetsu Castle and they don't see each other again until dinner time, when Yuuri comes back to the inn. They eat in silence, Yuuri still short of breath from all the workout he's been doing during the day. Afterwards, they soak in the onsen, but don't really talk much beyond how Yuuri's doing with his regime, and then they both go to sleep. Victor can tell, with no semblance of a doubt, that Yuuri is serious about getting coached by him and if the only thing he gets out of this is making Yuuri into the champion he has the potential to be, he'll be more than satisfied with that.

Tonight, Yuuri's a little later than usual, so Victor's brought his Japanese textbook to the dining table to review the page he studied earlier, after he'd finished installing his new queen-sized bed in the Katsukis' banquet room.

Victor's halfway through his dinner (curry on rice, not as superb as katsudon, but still possessing that divine and rich flavor that must be a product of Mrs. Katsuki's godly talents) when Yuuri arrives, looking even more beat up than the usual. It's working though, Victor can tell he's all but done getting back in shape. He's quite impressed by Yuuri's dedication, and that encourages him greatly. Lately, there's been days when he wakes up with the red thread tangled in his fingers, but when he sees Yuuri working hard, focused and determined to reach the goal, he feels it loosen on its own. He's not sure of what that means, but it gives him a little bit of peace of heart.

"Looks like you worked especially hard today. Your progress so far is pretty impressive." He comments offhandedly, his eyes still on his book, but his mind already drifting to thoughts of how good their training sessions will be if Yuuri is so focused and devoted.

From the corner of his eye, he catches Yuuri shaking his head and flapping his hands in dismissal, as if to say that working out from sunrise to sundown for a whole week (Victor really hopes he's getting proper rest in between) isn't really a big deal. Victor's noticed Yuuri is prone to do this kind of thing, minimize his own achievements. He wonders if that's part of the reason that his performances are never as good as they have the potential to be.

They eat in silence for a while, Yuuri struggling, but never complaining about his strict diet, even though Victor feels him eyeing his bowl of curry with the closest thing to lust that he's seen in those brown eyes since the banquet at Sochi. His gaze is so smouldering, Victor drops his spoon on the bowl, and specks of curry splatter into his textbook. He yelps, hurrying for a tissue to clean the stain off the pages, but there's little to be done now.

Yuuri also notices the disaster and is quick to grab another tissue to help, but his fingers stop halfway as they rub over the tables and examples on the book

"Victor, this…"

Victor looks up to find Yuuri's eyes wide with surprise. "Oh, I've been studying. Thought it could be useful."

Yuuri recoils, his cheeks turning red, and he hides his face behind his palms. His red string is twisting into itself, as if it wants to disappear, and Victor feels a pull on his own end. "I-I'm sorry, it must be really difficult for you out here, you'd probably be more comfortable in a bigger city where more people spoke English, I'm really sorry I'm mak-."

Victor cuts him off with a light tap to the crown of his head with the closed book. "Stop that nonsense, Yuuri, I like it a lot here! And learning a new language is always a good thing, right? I'd be studying even if we were in Tokyo, anyway."

The string stops twisting and Yuuri's eyes peek from between his fingers. It's an adorable sight and it makes Victor's stomach flutter. He barely suppresses the urge to snap a picture. "You would?"

"Of course! I'm your coach, right? I did say I wanted to get to know more about you, so learning your language in your hometown seems like the perfect place to start, doesn't it?" Victor chirps, grinning, his arms spread wide to sign for everything that's around them.

Yuuri drops his hands altogether, his fingers touching the table. His cheeks are still red. "O-oh. Th-thank you. I… I really appreciate that you're... putting so much effort into this." His eyes are big and shimmery, although he's not looking straight at Victor, but rather down at his hands flat on the wooden surface.

"Oh, I assure you I'm enjoying it a lot. Learning about you and your country, that is" Victor's elbow is on the table and his cheek is resting on his open palm as he replies, the words easy on his tongue.

Yuuri upturns his eyes and their gazes meet briefly. "I-if you need help I could… You can ask me." and a small curl appears on the corners of Yuuri's lips.

Victor feels himself smile.

Small steps.

* * *

It's been a week since Victor first arrived in Hasetsu when Yuri Plisetsky shows up unannounced, and all hopes of small steps are forced to a screeching halt (a very appropriate word choice given Yuri's taste in music).

The situation is rather troublesome indeed. He doesn't want to leave Hasetsu, and most importantly, he doesn't want to leave Yuuri, both for his selfish personal (and at times, not quite innocent) motives and his artistic pursuit of drawing out Yuuri's full potential on the ice. What a terrible disappointment it would be if he doesn't get to see Yuuri skating to the choreographies he's been crafting all these months. But he did promise Yuri to help him with his debut, even if he'd forgotten about it, and it would be rather cruel to let him down now, after he'd fulfilled his end of the bargain. It's also true that Victor wishes he could have more influence in Yuri, just to make him realize that jumps and technical scores aren't everything. If only he could get Yuri to put his heart into his skating the way Yuuri does…

"Let's go back to Russia!" Yuri barks, brows furrowed too deep for a boy so young.

Victor almost chastises him for facilitating the development of premature wrinkles, but a sharp, strangled inhale catches his ear.

Brown eyes are blown wide and watery, shimmering with emotion, so transparent and unguarded. Thick black eyebrows tilt, the corners of his mouth curve downwards and the string on his finger quivers and coils around flesh, the first, the second knuckle, all around the tip of his finger. His exhale is short, a breathless whimper born of a stinging ache.

It's Yuuri and Victor knows exactly _how_ he's hurting just from the sound of it.

 _Oh._

 _He doesn't want me to leave._

Somehow, looking into Yuuri's big, expressive eyes, always seems to help in making difficult decisions. He does already have two (half-baked) short programs anyway, as if this, too had been fate's design. His blood starts thrumming with excitement.

"Okay! I've decided!"

* * *

Victor knows two things for fact.

The first is that most, if not all of Yuri Plisetsky's perennial aggressiveness is but a load of posturing and misplaced anger. A defense mechanism meant to protect his most fragile feelings as well as his pride and sense of self-worth.

The second is that the Katsukis are the most wonderful people in this whole wide world, literal angels descended from heaven, and probably the warmest family Victor has ever met.

In spite of these two pieces of factual knowledge, it still catches him by surprise just how quickly Yuri surrenders to the Katsukis' innate welcoming kindness. One minute he's mouthing off about not wanting to share a bath with strangers, the next one his entire body looks like it's so relaxed it's turned to jelly while he inhales the bowl of katsudon that is given to him. He barely even bites back when he gets assigned a new nickname, because having two Yuris around was going to end up confusing sooner or later. Victor can't blame him, with the delicious food and the magnificent baths, Yutopia feels like actual heaven on Earth, its name incredibly befitting.

He admits it is kind of nice to have Yuri (or Yurio now) here. Talking to him, pushing his buttons and laughing, all of it is so easy. He's a piece of home and it makes Victor feel a little less restless about this whole situation. No matter how well he's blended in with the Katsukis, Victor is still an outsider who can barely communicate with anyone but the three people in all of this town that speak English, and one of them has been doing their damnedest to keep Victor at arm's length for most of the week, in spite of whatever little progress they've made. He needs the familiarity to balance out everything that hasn't turned out the way he'd originally hoped for since he arrived here.

* * *

Victor's been mostly used to not having Yuuri around for most of the day, so he wouldn't normally find it strange to realize that Yuuri wasn't in the room anymore. But he had never missed dinner in the past week, and most importantly, he's left his food unfinished, which is not only unusual, but concerning, since the strains he's putting his body through definitely requires a full meal. Victor briefly recalls hearing him speak rapid Japanese to his sister, of which he only made out 'Yurio' and 'room', but that was way over an hour ago, so when Mari comes by the room carrying a pile of laundry, he asks about Yuuri, only to be told he's at Minako's again.

Victor chews on his lip. Even though he had supposedly buried his burgeoning weariness towards Minako ever since Yuuri denied having any feelings for her, Victor can't help but feel uneasy. After all, Yuuri still spends a lot of time at her place, and she is just _so_ close to him, Victor still finds himself feeling more jealous than he should.

Without really thinking about it, he heads out into town. He only knows where Minako's place is because Yuuri pointed it out to him once, when Victor asked about places where he could go get a drink. The bar is empty when he arrives, only Minako herself standing behind the counter. He glances around, looking for any signs of Yuuri's presence, but finds nothing, so he takes a seat right across from Minako, who yelps as if she's just seen a ghost.

"Jesus, don't scare me like that!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was told Yuuri might be at your place."

She sighs, her eyebrows slightly scrunched. "By 'my place' they meant the ballet studio. Whenever Yuuri gets anxious, all he wants to do is practice. I usually go along with him. I've known Hiroko since high school and Yuuri's the only one of my students that didn't quit –at least not entirely-, so I guess I have a soft spot for him."

Victor blinks. _Oh_. A ballet instructor. Of age with Yuuri's mom. Not only that, but she also treasures Yuuri and helps him in his times of need. Rather than a rival, it turns out Minako might be a kindred spirit after all. It's a surprising, but pleasing development.

Before he knows it, he's let his tongue run loose and is asking Minako all sorts of questions about Yuuri. His childhood, his career, how he got into skating. Things like why he gets so nervous and what causes him to underperform when he has so much potential. He even interrogates her about whether Yuuri had any problems with his previous coach.

He discovers he likes talking to Minako because she's the only one apart from Yuuri that speaks English (one of the staffers from the rink does too, but there's not much room to talk to her about anything really), and communicating in signs and stunted Japanese gets tiresome really fast. She also has a quick wit and an acid sense of humor that Victor finds quite musing. And most importantly, she knows a lot about Yuuri and is very willing to share her knowledge with Victor.

Through their conversation, he learns about Yuuri's struggles with anxiety and just how much support he has from the people of Hasetsu. His family, his friends at Ice Castle, and Minako too, all seem to love Yuuri deeply, and from what she tells him, they all do what they can to help him deal with his anxiety. He'd already noticed that Yuuri actually has a strong and caring support system, but hearing it explicitly is even more reassuring.

"Coach Cialdini spotted him at the Junior Grand Prix Yokohama event. It was Yuuri's first time getting a spot for any Grand Prix Series event and Celestino had come with one of his own students. Yuuri got nervous and fell twice on his Free, placed 7th overall, but I guess that guy saw something in hi—"

"Oh, yes! I've watched that video!" Victor beams suddenly, almost leaping over the bar in his excitement "It was very enchanting in spite of the mistakes! Yuuri had such a lovely program that year, it's one of my favorites! I'm not surprised Celestino decided to scout him based on that."

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Have you really seen it?"

Victor cocks his head, not understanding her incredulousness. "Of course! I'm Yuuri's coach, I've seen all of his past performances –the ones I've been able to find anyway-. He had a very beautiful costume that year too, very different from what he usually does." He sighs, remembering the lovely contours of Yuuri's body on the skin-tight pants and the bedazzled red and black jacket.

Minako eyes him wearily as she wipes the bar with a white cloth, seems to hesitate for a moment, then raises her hand at him, her index finger pointed at his face accusingly.

"Victor, I'm not exactly sure of what your intentions are, but if you're taking this whole thing lightly and end up hurting Yuuri, know I will hunt you down to the end of the Earth"

He's doesn't really know where that's coming from, but he raises both hands in surrender anyway "No need, no need at all!" He laughs lightly. "I have no intention of doing so. In fact I'd say I…" His eyes find the red string on his finger and he smiles fondly. "I feel that I have a special connection with Yuuri."

A middle-aged man comes through the door and waves at them, muttering something Victor doesn't catch before taking a seat at the far end of the bar. Minako is quick to pour him a glass of brown alcohol –Victor guesses whisky from the smell- and comes back to eye Victor suspiciously again, her eyes raking over his raised hands. "A special connection, huh? Something like a red string of fate…?" She chuckles and turns away.

 _Red string of fate._

The words ring in Victor's ears and he almost jumps off his seat.

"Wait! Hold on, what did you just say?" he asks, suddenly frantic.

Now she's the one that's confused. "Hm? Red string of fate?"

"Yes! That… what is that?" his fingers curl around the string, heart beating precipitously in his chest.

"Oh, I guess foreigners don't really know about it. It's an old legend, actually."

She pours a glass for herself and offers one for Victor, but he has no mind for anything else, not when an answer to all this madness finally seems within his reach, so he shakes his head. " _Tell me_." He all but whines, desperate.

She lets out a heavy sigh, still visibly confused by the sudden switch of mood "The old tales say the gods tied a red string around two people that are destined to find each other, and only the two of them will be able to see it. Traditionally it's supposed to be tied to your pinky finger, but I've heard in China they say it's the ankle. Either way it's like… it's hard to explain, I guess you could say it's similar to the idea of 'soulmates' you'll find in the West."

Except that tales of soulmates are myths, and this string on Victor's finger, the string that ties him to Yuuri, that brought him here, is very real, _too_ real.

"I've never heard of this story before." He says, and his voice sounds thick and strange to his own ears.

"Well, it's a very debated topic. You won't hear much about it these days, but it's supposed to be a real thing and there are a lot of accounts about it in ancient tales and testimonies. The tale itself was lost for a long time, but supposedly it regained popularity after the war; people needed something happy and hopeful to believe in or something, you know? And then it kind of stuck for a while. When I was young it wasn't uncommon for celebrity couples to claim they were connected by the red string, but most of them were pure publicity stunts, and then they got a lot of backlash if they broke up."

"So what happens if one of the parties doesn't see it?"

She frowns at him and he realizes maybe he's talked too much, but he _needs_ to know. He hasn't directly asked Yuuri about it –the constant rejection has made him somehow afraid of what he might say-, but he's flaunted his hand to Yuuri's eye level many times, and he hasn't seen any flicker of recognition in his eyes.

"Hmmm, how was it?" she hums pensively, clutching her chin in her thumb and index. "It's something like… when the two destined persons meet, one of them will be able to see the string and… Ah, yes, supposedly the second person won't see it unless their feelings match… or something like that…"

Victor's blood is thrumming with anticipation, all the answers truly within his grasp at last, and he swallows around the lump in his throat "Match? What does that mean?"

To his disappointment, she shrugs "Who knows. It's such an old legend the specifics have been largely lost. Most people don't even believe in it these days beyond cheap gossip magazines, and well, it's expected since there's really no way to prove someone has it. My grandma swore she was connected to her second husband with it, that's how I know about it, she used to tell me their love story before bed." She smiles fondly.

"So it's supposed to be a connection between fated lovers?" the idea excites him as much as it terrifies him and his mind goes back to Sochi and the warmth of Yuuri's hands on his body when they danced.

"Not necessarily, I think. One of my dance classmates in Tokyo, she said she had a red string with her teammate, and well, they were really such a wonderful pair, you should've seen them dance." Her eyes sparkle with nostalgia. She looks very beautiful like that. "But it was never really like that for them, she wasn't even into guys anyway, they were just perfect as dance partners. They have a dance studio in Tokyo too, they're very successful last I heard. Maybe it's just supposed to be a very precious and life-changing connection with someone."

Victor loves how that sounds.

"But then wouldn't it be easy if the person that sees it first tells the other person about it?" he asks, already quivering with the need to run to Yuuri and tell him _everything_ and maybe this'll be the turn their relationship needs to truly start understanding each other.

She looks bewildered by his suggestion. "What? No! That'd be horrible, no one does that!" she downs her alcohol in one swig. "Think about it, if the other person can't see it, they can't really know if you're telling the truth, right? That'd be like pressuring them into doing what you want. There are a lot of nasty stories about people lying about it to get their way with someone, especially among teenagers. I guess you can imagine the rest."

Victor feels a little crestfallen by the response, but what she says does make a lot of sense. What would he tell Yuuri anyway, when he's not even sure of what he wants their relationship to be at this point? He's had to revise his original plan so much since arriving here after all. And from what he's learned this past week, trying to force his own still ambiguous hopes on Yuuri would only push him further away. He may not know for sure _what_ he wants, but he's certain he doesn't want to lose whatever may be growing between him and Yuuri.

He looks down at his hand, flat on the wooden bar, his eyes focusing again on the string. "And what if the first person doesn't try to pursue anything? I mean what if they meet and the person who sees it first decides they don't want to do anything about their connection? Isn't it unfair?" he thinks of the day this string first appeared, how he wasn't sure back then that it linked him to Yuuri, and his chest aches wondering what would have happened if Yuuri hadn't met him at the banquet. It scares him to think he could have missed out on this, on the excitement that Yuuri has brought to his life, however many caveats and obstacles may stand on his way right now.

"Is it? If one person doesn't want to do anything about it then that's it, right? It means it wasn't really going to work anyway."

Once again, Victor can see the logic in that, even though the 'what ifs' still haunt him.

She sighs and smiles, her eyes gaining a particular sparkle that Victor doesn't know how to interpret "But it _is_ supposed to be something very special. Even if people don't really believe in it, I'm sure most still hope to be able to see it one day. We all want to feel connected to someone else, right?"

He feels a light tug on his string and it makes his chest flutter. She's right after all. The 'what ifs' don't matter. What matters is he's here, with Yuuri who's already changed his life completely, and there's still a world of possibilities that he can't wait to explore. In the end, he's not that far off from his original plan, to find Yuuri and let things follow their natural course, see where it takes him. But now at least, he has the reassurance of this connection, of knowing that coming here was the right choice, no matter what may come of it. That Yuuri was his meeting of fate after all.

The string pulls at his finger again and he leaps off his seat once more, heart hammering in his chest. He wants to see Yuuri.

"Thanks a lot for the talk, it was really interesting. I'm heading off to Ice Castle, I really should check out what Yuuri's doing and make sure he's not pushing too hard."

Minako smiles lightly "He really does need someone to keep him in check for that."

* * *

Yuuri's doing compulsory figures when Victor arrives at Ice Castle, but he doesn't even get to approach the rink before he's being shoved into the observation deck brusquely.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri-kun needs some quiet right now." The staffer that speaks English –Yuko Nishigori, she's the triplets' mother- looks at him apologetically while her husband who doesn't speak any English shuts the door behind them.

Victor just nods and doesn't argue. These are Yuuri's friends and they know him better. Perhaps this is even for the best. He's still riding high on everything he just heard from Minako, there's a risk he might let his tongue loose in front of Yuuri, and he certainly doesn't want that.

He feels a soft nudge on his thigh and looks down to find Makkachin beaming at him excitedly. "Oh, there you are! I didn't even notice you left, how'd you even get all the way here?" he coos running his hands over the dog's head and tugging at his ears playfully.

He's sure he said that in Russian, but maybe it was too obvious from the context, because Yuko turns to look at him, looking apologetic again. "He came following Yuuri-kun. He almost panicked when he realized Makkachin was with him, he thought for sure you'd get angry. I had to convince him not to go back home, he looked like he really needed to clear his head. Sorry if that was an inconvenience."

Victor kneels down to ruffle Makkachin's fur softly. "Not at all, thank you for looking after both of them." He doesn't fully understand the situation, but Yuko is the third person tonight that tells him about how Yuuri unleashes his anxiety with these solo practices, and if that's something Yuuri needs, it certainly should take priority. "You wanted to take care of Yuuri too, didn't you?" he coos again, pulling at Makkachin's cheeks, and Yuko giggles.

Since he can't interfere, Victor decides this is as good a time as any to ask. "Could you tell me more about Yuuri?" he inquires, getting back on his feet to watch Yuuri, whose gaze is fixed on the ice and his skates as he continues to trace eights on the cold surface. He looks like he can't concentrate on anything but the path his blades carve on the ice. Victor wonders what Yuuri would think if he could see how bright they look with the vibrant crimson string tracing over them, drawing Yuuri's path across the surface in the striking color of blood.

Yuko glances at him quizzically, like she's pondering on his question, and exchanges glances with her husband –Victor doesn't remember his name, they haven't talked much-. She leans on the hand rail, looking at Yuuri too and her gaze goes soft with fondness. They tell him how Yuuri used to copy his programs when he first started skating, how he came here to practice all the time when he was younger, and how he's struggled to make any friends or really put himself out there outside of skating.

"I've always thought he's amazing." Yuko says, her eyes fixed on Yuuri "Ever since he decided he was going to get into competitive figure skating he never stopped. He practiced and practiced and practiced and never gave up. But Yuuri-kun… I'm sure you've realized, but he doesn't have any confidence in himself. He doesn't seem to realize how amazing he is. He gets so scared of disappointing himself that he crumbles when he competes and then feels like quitting. But then he gets back up and keeps trying and trying. He's the most dedicated person I know."

The past week has already given Victor an inkling into Yuuri's determination and passion. He's seen how hard he's worked out to get back in shape, how eager he was to start training the moment he fulfilled Victor's demands. Victor himself has been looking forward to it all week, how Yuuri will be under his tutelage, how their sessions will turn out. He can't wait to get started.

The potential that Yuuri has though, it seems not many, not even his friends seem to realize. He may not be a genius, but he has such a unique type or artistry, something that's hard to find in their increasingly technically obsessed field. Even the way he glides into these compulsory figures has a sort of charm to it that makes Victor unable to look away. Technique? Jumps? That can be learned and practiced. The way Yuuri _feels_ himself on the ice, how he channels the music with his body, that's not something anyone can teach.

"I don't want this to be the end for Yuuri." The husband says.

"Me neither. He actually really hates losing you know? I'm hoping Victor will bring out a side of Yuuri-kun that we haven't seen before."

Victor taps his lips lightly in thought. Something different, something new. Something that will help Yuuri come out of his shell and grow more confident in himself, to realize what he's truly capable of so he can wow the world and feel proud of his own accomplishments.

"So, a magic spell to change the little piggy into a prince…" he muses, his thoughts going back to Sochi, how different Yuuri was back then. Like a real Cinderella, except that rather than a fairy godmother and a pumpkin chariot, Yuuri's transformation required loads of alcohol and a stripper pole. And Victor's job will be to help him get there without those things. A most challenging task for sure, but one he's sure he can accomplish. Fate has already decided they will change each other's lives after all.

Something lights up in him, like a bolt of electricity. Something he hasn't truly had in months.

Inspiration.

"Thanks, I've learned a lot about Yuuri today." He sings cheerfully, springing towards the door. Makkachin bounces behind him, but Victor stops him. "No, no, you stay here and make sure Yuuri gets back home safe, okay? I can't trust such an important job on anyone else." He peeps, poking the dog's black wet nose. Makkachin borks happily and hops back to Yuko's side, standing on his back legs, his front paws touching the window as if he too wanted to watch Yuuri. Victor turns to Yuko and Takeshi again, grinning "Please don't tell Yuuri I was here, I don't want him to feel I'm intruding in his space."

He all but runs back to the inn, clinging to every thought and every spark, every memory and every move he can imagine. He shuts himself in his room and grabs a piece of paper, where he scribbles and draws and writes and he plugs his earphones to his computer and puts his choice of music on endless repeat. The picture's never felt clearer, never more obvious.

Yuuri comes back a little under two hours later, past midnight again. Victor feels the tug on his string first, removes his earphones and hears Yuuri's footsteps on the wooden floor, followed by Makkachin's padding behind. Yuuri's speaking in hushed whispers that Victor can't quite make out, until his door slides open slowly, barely enough for Makkachin to get inside the room.

"Welcome back,Yuuri!" Victor greets, grinning, exhausted from all the work he's done, but satisfied like he hasn't felt in a long time.

Yuuri yelps in surprise. "V-Victor! I'm sorry for w-" he cuts himself off when he sees the laptop on Victor's legs and the papers spread all over the floor. "Why are you up so late?" he asks instead, eyebrows quirked in curiosity.

Victor beams "Just the finishing touches on the programs for you and Yurio. I'm really excited to show them to you! I can't wait for tomorrow!" _They're going to be so surprised_ , he thinks to himself, exhilarated.

"Oh." Yuuri eyes the mess in his bedroom once again, and his gaze turns a little soft. Victor doesn't know what that means, but it's a good look on him. "I'm… I'm looking forward to it too."

Victor's heart skips a beat and he finds himself at a loss for words. This feels… nice. Yuuri actually talking about what he feels, even if it's for a small thing. It hits him that it's the first time he faces Yuuri since learning how special their connection is, and he feels heat rushing to his cheeks. For some reason, this little moment feels like another small step and he likes it. He likes it a lot.

Yuuri fidgets on his spot. "Uhm… uh, good night, Victor."

Victor smiles softly, his heart fluttering in his chest. "Good night, Yuuri. Rest well."

"Th-thanks, you too."

Yuuri leaves and Victor thinks he really should clean up and go to sleep already. But his small conversation with Yuuri has left him reeling. He picks up the scattered pages and decides to give it one more run with the music, tweak it a little here and there make sure it's perfect for tomorrow. And even after he's done with that and tucked himself in his bedsheets, it takes him a while to taper down his excitement so he can sleep.

* * *

"Yuuri gets Eros! Yurio skates to Agape!"

Their horrified screams are priceless. Victor is very pleased with himself. He really does thrive on the excitement of surprising people. Honestly, even if he didn't have actual reasons for these assignments (which he does), he probably would've appointed them just like this, if only to get that look on their faces. He has to show them a little bit of tough love to make the competition fair and motivate them further after all.

Yurio is unexpectedly fast to adapt. Victor assumed he would show more resistance to getting assigned the "innocent" music he'd just claimed to despise barely two minutes ago. It shows how determined he is about his senior debut, and Victor truly hopes he can give him a program that will let him make the most out of it.

"If I defeat this loser, you'll come back to Russia with me! And you'll become my coach! That's what I want!"

Victor wishes Yurio would ask for something else. He thinks it'd be interesting, to coach both of them through this season. They are so radically opposite in their strengths and weaknesses that he's sure both would benefit from it, help each other grow. Yuuri could learn to improve his technicals while Yurio would be able to inject new feelings into his programs. It would be a truly amazing opportunity. But alas, it is apparently not meant to be.

He agrees nonetheless, because although he intends be impartial in his judging, as talented as Yurio is, this will be his first time skating a senior level program, so Victor is confident that Yuuri's experience will be enough to help him pull through. Nevertheless, he feels a little bit guilty for appreciating the way Yuuri's breath hitches once again. It's reassuring, to be reminded that Yuuri doesn't actually want him to leave.

"What about you, Yuuri? What would you like to do if you win?"

 _Ask me to stay._

"I want to eat katsudon with you, Victor."

Victor's eyes widen.

"I want to keep on winning and eat a lot of katsudon! I'll give it all the Eros I've got!"

His heart stutters. The string that hangs between them, ripples. Suddenly, his cheeks hurt and he realizes he's smiling, like he hasn't in a while. Something blossoms inside him, warm and beautiful and thrilling; like Sochi. Like Yuuri.

"I love that kind of thing!"

 **To be continued**

Is this chapter awkward? It was hard to get through because I don't want this to be just a tracing of every scene and line, but there are also many that need to be shown. Doesn't help that this was the convenient exposition chapter. Basically, this is an AU in which the belief on the red string isn't that popularized, and because of that, knowledge of it hasn't really impacted the West. I hope the rules and explanations don't sound too forced or farfetched

Sorry for my scarce notes, I'm literally struggling to keep my eyes open, but I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'm sorry for my continuously unreliable update schedule.


	3. Chapter 3

Victor has been acquainted with the feeling of being desired since he was very young. He had barely passed his ninth birthday when he already had an "official" fanclub and not all of the members were entirely innocent in their intentions. He hadn't _known_ how to name it back then, but the feeling was there nonetheless.

For the most part, he didn't mind it. Knowing that the audience loved and wanted him only fueled his wish to give their love back by means of surprising them again and again and again. He thrived in their breathless gasps, their eyes starry with wonder, their encouraging cheers, how they went wild when he landed a difficult jump. One could even say he craved for their adoration.

Of course, he'd been on the receiving end of plenty of unwanted desire too. The kind that made people send him strands of their hair or clipped fingernails. There was even one time when he got a letter folded in a tightly closed plastic bag, and when he opened it, he found it was wet and sticky, and it wasn't precisely water. He still shudders at the thought. That was actually the reason his fanmail began getting screened, way over ten years ago.

But this, _this_ he has never felt before. Being desired by Yuuri and _only by Yuuri_ as he demonstrates Eros, his warm eyes transfixed on him, smouldering, following his every move, enraptured by every breath... it's a completely different feeling. It makes Victor's skin prickle, his heart hammers in his chest, his blood leaves a scorching trail as it thrums through his veins. The red string quivers with excitement, and it feels as if it's pulling him towards Yuuri, as if Yuuri's calling for him to come closer. His cheeks feel hot, but he can't stop moving. Has Yuuri understood, at last, how deeply Victor wants him? Will he reciprocate Victor's boiling passion? There's something in Yuuri's eyes that looks a lot like yearning and a lot like hunger and it makes the fire within him burn hotter.

Yuuri steps on the ice and his gaze turns insecure. It gives Victor the breather he needs to quell his escalating fever and bring his mind back down to earth.

"What quads can you land, Yuuri?" it's a mostly gratuitous question, he saw which jumps were downgraded to triples in Yuuri's video, has seen what Yuuri's been able to do in past competitions, but he needs to get grounded, to become, for now the coach Yuuri needs and nothing more.

"The toe loop, and I've landed the Salchow in practice, but never in competition. But I think I can do it if I try! I… uhm…"

He sees the way Yuuri's lip trembles, how his shoulders sag with self-deprecation, how he won't even meet Victor's eyes. And Victor doesn't understand, why does Yuuri look so insecure, how does he not see his own potential, where did he hide away the confidence he had when they danced in Sochi? They can't work with new things if Yuuri doesn't even believe in himself.

"You have the skill to win, why can't you make it happen?"

Yuuri looks troubled, his voice low and hesitant "That's probably because I…I have no self-confidence."

Well, if Yuuri's lost his confidence, then Victor will make it his personal goal to help him find it again. He's seen what a confident Yuuri can be like and he wants to bring that beauty and music to the ice, for Yuuri to see himself the way Victor sees him, so wonderful and surprising. He can't stand watching Yuuri like this, gaze downcast in shame, as if he doesn't think he's worthy. He glides a little forward, his hand cupping Yuuri's chin, thumb pressing lightly on his quivering bottom lip, and he gets even closer, one of his skates framed between Yuuri's legs, their noses almost touching. Molten lava courses his veins as Yuuri's eyes grow wide, a blush spreading over his face, breath catching in his throat.

"No one in the whole world knows your true Eros, Yuuri. It may be an alluring part of you that even you're unaware of…" Victor's seen part of it and it turned his life upside down, and he knows there's so much more underneath the surface, more than enough to set the world on fire. He can feel it in his bones, his blood, in the pounding of his heart. "Can you show me what it is soon?" his voice drops barely above a whisper and Yuuri still trembles under his touch, swallows around a choked inhale, eyes shimmering with what looks like expectation. His bottom lip feels soft on his thumb, a little dry, and he thinks of licking it, wonders how it would taste, how it would be so easy to just bite away at this breath of distance and…

"Oi, Victor! Aren't you gonna teach me first, asshole?!"

The spell shatters like a glass window and Victor pulls back from Yuuri, the heat pooling in his loins plummeting.

 _There's a child present, Nikiforov, a child! Get it together!_

He catches a glimpse of Yuuri's flushed face and wishes he could bury himself under the ice. What was he even thinking? Pushing Yuuri's physical boundaries like that, intruding in his personal space, has he learnt nothing this past week? Just yesterday he decided he wanted to take his time, get closer to Yuuri, get to know him better, earn his trust and allow their relationship to develop in whichever direction would make them both happy. Was he really about to throw away all the chances, all the possibilities just for instantaneous gratification?

He takes a deep breath and glances at Yuuri again. And he notices then that Yuuri is still standing there, barely a step away from him, when only a week ago he would've darted away to the furthest available wall. Is Yuuri growing more comfortable with him? He can't help the flutter of optimism blossoming in his belly.

* * *

Victor realizes all too late, that Yakov made coaching look so much easier than it actually is. Apparently there's more to it than yelling about sloppy free legs and yelling some more about things Victor never cared to listen to. Who would've thought?

"Yakov, how did you make me so good? Coaching is impossible you need to come to Japan to help me, I can't have Yuuri—"

The line cuts before he can even be done with his whining. Yakov doesn't answer his calls again.

First there's Yurio, who could be skating to the theme of "Watching paint dry" for all the emotion he puts into it. Victor is at a complete loss about how to help him channel the feeling of Agape, and if he weren't so young and inexperienced, Victor would suggest he faked it. Most audiences would buy it anyway. It doesn't help that he himself can't really find a proper way to describe Agape. When he created the program he'd been thinking of his unconditional love for skating, but even that hadn't been sufficient to help him bring the program to completion. Of course, "faking it" would completely defeat the purpose of having Yurio realize the importance of performance and interpretation, of pouring your soul into your programs. Figure skating was an art before it was a competitive sport and Victor wants Yurio to acknowledge that and embrace it, because he has such potential for beauty and he's wasting it on his technical obsession. At his wit's end, he suggests a temple punishment without really thinking about it, frustrated enough to believe it might work somehow.

And then there's Yuuri. Beautiful, surprising Yuuri, who still looks like a deer caught in headlights whenever Victor approaches him, who fumbles and stumbles through Eros, still can't land the quad Salchow and can't seem to get out a full sentence directed at Victor without stuttering or averting his gaze. And here's another thing Victor learns all too late: making people gain self-confidence is way easier said than done, and he finds that he has no clue of where to even start. One would think the obvious would be to praise Yuuri's successes, but every time Victor says something like "that was beautiful, Yuuri!", it only seems to make Yuuri more self-conscious. It had never occurred to him that someone could have so little faith in himself, especially someone as talented as Yuuri. Of all things in life, self-confidence was never something Victor struggled with, so he finds it difficult to put himself in Yuuri's position and try to understand his feelings.

The strangest part of it all is that Yuuri doesn't show any particular reaction to Eros. When Victor skates it, he can almost taste Yuuri's desire, the burn of his gaze. But that's about it. There is no hint of recognition or remembrance, and he repeatedly questions why Victor gave him this program, as if he's unaware that he's the main inspiration for it. Victor wonders if perhaps he's made it too obtuse with his choreography, if Yuuri's missed the insinuations of how tightly he'd wrapped Victor in his game of seduction, of how dejected he'd felt after not hearing from him for months and months and months. He briefly thinks of asking, but realizes if Yuuri's avoided the topic so badly it obviously means he was deeply embarrassed by his behavior at the banquet, and Victor didn't want to shame him again. It's undeniably disappointing, but he's willing to work back from square one if that's what'll make Yuuri more comfortable.

This is going to be a much bigger challenge than he thought.

* * *

Things are notoriously less awkward when they're not on the ice, particularly back at the inn, and that gives Victor hope. Even with Yurio's grumbling, there's a nice feel of domesticity to dipping in the bath together (how fast Yurio has succumbed is still fascinating), or sharing dinner, in spite of how miserable Yuuri looks with his strictly dietary meals. Victor briefly considers giving up on katsudon just for the sake of not making Yuuri so unhappy, but he's a weak and self-indulgent man and can't bring himself to refuse Mrs. Hiroko's kind and delicious looking offerings.

The activity Victor enjoys most though, is when Yuuri sits with him –usually in the couch he got for his bedroom- and helps him practice Japanese. Because Yurio showed up the night right after Yuuri had made the offer, Victor had feared the plan had been scrapped; but on the same day that he unveiled the two programs, when Yuuri had come back late at night and found Victor studying he'd quietly asked.

"Do you… still want my help with that?"

Victor had beamed, beyond delighted, and Yuuri had squiggled his way to sit next to him on the couch, taking a quick look at his flashcards and smiling endearingly, like he thought Victor's pitiful attempts at kanji were somehow adorable. No one's called him 'adorable' since he was twelve, and the thought makes his heart flutter.

(Of course, he's aware that Yuuri's hasn't _explicitly_ called him that either, but Victor's going to cling to that fond glint in Yuuri's eyes like his life depends on it).

And so it becomes a routine to sit side by side, going over Victor's textbook together. Yuuri will talk to him in simple sentences and Victor will try to construct his own in response, then Yuuri will correct any mistakes, almost as mercilessly as Victor does when they're on the ice. It's fascinating to watch Yuuri's walls crumble ever the slightest in these improvised sessions, how his posture relaxes, and he even dares giggle when Victor switches a word that completely changes the meaning of what he's trying to say.

"Victor, you just said your favorite color is 'left'." He chuckles, and Victor is surprised that his wounded pride is easily overshadowed by the delight of hearing Yuuri's laughter.

They do have a few squabbles, especially the first night in which Victor stubbornly refuses to follow what Yuuri calls 'proper stroke order' when he writes.

"What does it matter? No one's going to know." He argues, trying to convince himself that the character he just wrote looks fine. He's just writing it the way it feels more natural, what's wrong with that?

Yuuri frowns, unamused. "It's just how it is." He says, and Victor frowns back, not very convinced.

After three more failed repetitions of the same kanji ('it looks _fine'_ he keeps telling himself), Yuuri huffs in exasperation. Victor briefly worries he's crossed the line and that Yuuri won't want to teach him anymore. But instead, Yuuri just changes to sit on his right and grabs his wrist, their string braiding into itself with the close proximity. Victor gasps, surprised, and watches without really understanding how Yuuri guides his hand through the proper strokes, leaving an almost flawless character on his white sheet. Victor isn't sure if he's more amazed at the ink or at the feeling of Yuuri's hand around his.

"Now you try it like that."

Still in a daze, he forces himself to copy the moves Yuuri just showed him. It's still quite unsightly, but he has to admit he can see the improvement. He briefly considers rebelling again just so Yuuri will guide his hand one more time. He doesn't, and by the time midnight rolls around and they decide it's time to sleep, Yuuri praises his quick progress, looking almost as pleased about Victor's minimal success as Victor himself feels.

On the second night, Mrs. Hiroko supplies Yuuri's kindergarten books and although there isn't a lot he can take from them, he squeals in delight seeing Yuuri's cute shaky handwriting and his colorful doodles. Yuuri blushes beet red and is even more merciless in his critique of Victor's pedestrian grammar and rough strokes. Once or twice Victor may or may not do the stroke order wrong on purpose to prompt Yuuri to hold his hand and guide him through the correct way whilst huffing in frustration. Victor also wishes he were a better man so he could at least feel guilty about it.

* * *

It's the fourth day since he assigned the programs and the progress, if any, is minimal. It's barely been half a week and Victor already feels he's aged half a decade. He spent half the night feeling giddy after Yuuri helped him with Japanese and the other half wracking his brain for ideas on how to help his two students and coming up empty. It's taking all of his willpower to stand here and try to figure out what they could be missing instead of going back to soak at the onsen and forget all of his worries.

Yurio continues to skate with the purity and innocence of a Russian mobster. His steps and spins are forced and rough, no feeling whatsoever imbued in the performance, all focus dedicated on landing flawless, if profoundly uninteresting, jumps. Victor's not sure at this point if sending Yurio to the temple is just his twisted way to unleash his frustrations.

As for Yuuri, while there's that visible, intrinsical musicality to the way he skates and in everything he does, there is no feeling of Eros in his choreography. No passion, no pleasure, no sensuality, no confidence at all. And every time he falls on the quad Salchow his mood dampens more and more. By the time he does his last run of the program for the day, he even falls on the triple axel, and that one's supposed to be his specialty. The fall is quite hard to watch, to the point Victor worries Yuuri might have injured himself. They call it a day and Yuuri heads out to practice at Minako's. Victor has never joined him in those practices so all he has left is take a walk down the beach with Makkachin and try to force himself not to worry so the red string won't start coiling around his arm again.

When he gets back to the inn, he picks up his Japanese textbook and reviews what he's been studying this week on his own, figuring Yuuri won't really be up for it after how badly things went at the Ice Castle. He's surprised when Yuuri comes home early and, without a word, takes his seat to Victor's side, silently prying into what he's been working on. He gives a few pointers and smiles a little when he says "this is a good sentence", but other than that, just watches in silence as Victor completes a grammar exercise. The red string lies between them, pleasantly still.

They end their session early and head downstairs for dinner, where Yurio's already sitting, halfway through _inhaling_ his plate of katsudon. He glares at Victor the minute he walks in, but he's too engrossed in his meal to say anything. Yuuri sighs in defeat as he sits down, staring hopelessly at the unappetizing plate of vegetables waiting for him on the table. Yurio snorts _,_ overstating how delicious his own food is, no doubt in an attempt to mock Yuuri.

Strangely, Yuuri doesn't seem to notice. He hasn't touched his dinner and his cheek is mushed against the table, gaze unfocused. He mumbles in Japanese and the only word Victor catches is 'Eros'. It's not difficult to deduce that Yuuri's getting in his own head about his flounders during practice and Victor feels as much at a loss on how to help him as he was at the start of the week. He'd be lying if he said his concerns about this competition aren't growing exponentially for every day he sees both Yuris struggle so hard. They remind him of himself, crashing against a wall again and again trying to figure out these same two programs. Maybe it was too ambitious to give them something he himself hadn't been able to fully grasp. He'd hoped Yuuri would channel that side of him he'd shown at the banquet in Sochi, but by how practice is going, Victor is almost starting to wonder if dancing with Yuuri that night hadn't been a wild hallucination (he has photographic evidence that proves otherwise, but still…)

Suddenly, Yuuri slams his palm on the table and sits up, eyes bright and smile wide with realization. "I get it now!" he beams at no one in particular.

Victor's heart jumps. Has he finally figured it out? Has Yuuri realized that Eros was always about him to begin with? Will he see _that_ Yuuri ag—

"It's katsudon! That's what Eros is to me!"

Victor almost chokes on his food as the room falls into complete silence.

"Okay, we can go with that." He hears himself say, voice strained, even though his mind still hasn't really processed what it just heard. "It's good that it's unique."

Yurio chuckles as Yuuri bolts out of the room with Makkachin quickly running after him and Victor starts feeling that maybe, just maybe, he would be getting very angry if he wasn't so utterly confused because he made an entire program inspired by a man that could dance circles around Christophe Giacometti on the pole while pouring champagne over their mostly naked bodies and somehow that same man was telling him his vision of sexual love was connected to a plate of pork and rice.

A more reasonable man would probably start to question their life choices at this point.

Surprising even himself, Victor realizes he's not feeling very reasonable tonight.

* * *

Victor has found himself in many bizarre situations throughout his life. On and off the ice. Still, he struggles to come up with one that beats hearing himself yelling instructions such as "Try to picture yourself entangling more of the egg on the katsudon!", to which he receives a compliant "Yes!"

They practice and practice and practice. Yuuri's improved a little, but there's still something missing. A part of him still doesn't believe he can be sexy and alluring, and seems more focused on being seduced by his beloved katsudon. Victor finds himself in the most surreal position of feeling something akin to jealousy towards _food_.

If anything, Yuuri Katsuki has proved to be even more of an experience than he originally anticipated, in many more ways than he could've ever imagined.

Yurio, on the other hand continues to be a completely different kind of problem. There's just no improvement and Victor feels he's exhausted his options. Time is ticking, tomorrow is their last day of practice before the competition and although he _wants_ to stay in Japan, he doesn't want to let Yurio down. He's come all the way here, the least Victor can do for him is help him take this program and his senior debut to the next level. The last thing he wants is for Yurio to have a humiliating experience for his first performance as a senior.

"Waterfall training." He blurts without thinking as the sun starts to set. "Take Yuuri with you too." He adds even though he's not quite sure of what he's saying at all. The string on his finger isn't coiling around his flesh like it has done before, but it's frizzled and rigid, it pulls on him in a strange way that, for the first time since he first saw it, seems to restrict his movements.

Perhaps because Yurio too is growing desperate, he only gapes for half a minute before dragging Yuuri out of the rink with him, grumbling profanities in Russian while Yuuri screeches in confusion.

It's been a weird day.

With the Yuris gone, Victor decides to take the night off. He's not sure of how long whatever waterfall training they'll do will take and he's too tired to think about actually going back to the inn and studying. He needs a change of air, to clear his head and not have to look at Mrs. Hiroko's eyes and try to explain that he's completely lost on how to help her son like he promised he would.

As he wanders aimlessly, he catches a drift of an enticing smell and his stomach grumbles. He looks up to find a small food stall, fairly packed with patrons laughing and chatting amicably in incomprehensible Japanese. Victor presses a finger to his lips for a moment and nods to himself in determination. He's got the opportunity of a full-immersion experience, he'd be a fool not to take it. And the food (ramen, he's been dying to try it) smells truly wonderful. Also, as much as he loves Yutopia and Mrs. Hiroko's katsudon, he's afraid actually seeing it will give way to completely nonsensical feelings of inadequacy in light of Yuuri's recent choice of inspiration.

He takes a seat cautiously and eyes the people around him. The shopkeeper beams at him with a big, welcoming smile and hands him a menu –all in Japanese- "Sorry, no English," the man says with a heavy accent before moving on to a different customer.

Victor sighs. He could spend the next three hours trying to decipher the menu with some combination of the apps he's downloaded to his phone and his scarce knowledge, or he could point at something randomly and pray for the best.

Then he remembers something Yuuri mentioned during one of their study sessions. "If you're eating out and can't read the menu…" he'd said with a stern expression that much reminded Victor of a teacher speaking to a particularly difficult 8 year-old student.

"Ramen… recommendation?" he tries, looking at the shopkeeper, hoping he's gotten it right.

The man eyes him curiously and then his expression shifts with recognition, beaming at him again. "Sure, sure! One moment!"

Victor watches the man shuffle around his stall, grabbing a large ceramic bowl and filling it with soup, then adding stuff from the pot on top before coming back to him with an even bigger smile. Victor looks down at the plate and his mouth waters immediately. It looks (and smells) magnificent.

"S-sake too, please!" he asks, emboldened by his success and the man is quick to bring him a bottle and a cup all to himself. Victor tries a sip and it makes him buzz from head to toe, then picks up some noodles with his chopsticks and slurps them, delighted to find them extremely vkusno-worthy. This is turning out way better than expected.

Instead of going to his other customers, the man stays close to him, speaking in rapid-fire Japanese of which Victor only catches the word "Katsuki-kun" repeatedly. By his enthusiasm, it's easy to guess what he's saying, at least on a general idea. It makes him a little sad that he can't really respond to the man's excitement properly, so he does the best he can.

"Yuuri's doing his best!" he says, pumping his fist.

Some of the guests turn to look at him, their expressions unreadable, and for a moment, Victor fears he's messed up a word and said something offensive (just the other day he'd accidentally told Yuuri he thought the onsen was "disgusting" and he's still mortified about it). But instead, they smile at him, an old lady cooing "Your Japanese is good!" –and he _understands_ what she says and preens with the praise.

The salesman barks in laughter and starts talking to the other customers, pointing at Victor and repeating over and over "Katsuki-kun", which makes even more people turn his way with awe and excitement in their eyes.

It crosses his mind briefly, that these people don't really know who he is. They've likely never even watched any figure skating except _maybe_ for Yuuri's performances, let alone heard of Victor Nikiforov, Russia's Living Legend. He's _just_ Yuuri's coach, the only reason he's important is he's somehow connected to their local hero. It stings his pride a little bit, but on the other hand, it's surprisingly liberating. No one expects things from him. To these people, he's not the camera-perfect prince of the ice; he doesn't need to be flirty or elegant or mysterious. _He's just Yuuri's coach_.

Alcohol starts flowing as the guests gather around him. None of them really speak any English, but any gaps in communication are filled with more sake. They toast to Yuuri's success and Victor asks them to come to watch them for Onsen on Ice, feeling himself getting excited about it. At some point of the night, the string pulls on his finger as if to remind him it's there –like he could ever forget- and he has a moment of lucidity to ask the salesman "Here, what name?", to which the man says "Nagahama Ramen". Victor quickly types it in a text to Yuuri to let him know he'll be late. Before his mind gets too clear though, another bottle of sake (or maybe it's beer) reaches his hands and the world turns to a blur.

* * *

He's had worse hangovers.

In fact, considering he lost count of the sake bottles after the third one, he feels quite decent. He has a bit of a headache and is vastly disoriented, but what really lingers from last night is the roaring laughter that surrounded him until the wee hours of the night.

"Good morning!" The salesman beams at him, any sign of last night's party already cleaned up. "Water?" he asks, offering him a glass which Victor takes gratefully.

He notices the sun is high up in the sky and he takes a look at his phone. It's well past 8:30. It's their last day of practice before the show and Victor's already more than an hour late.

 _Oops_.

"Thanks! Had fun! Ramen delicious!" he garbles, hoping it's comprehensible, then dashes over to the Ice Castle.

He's met with an interesting situation. Yurio is actually teaching Yuuri the quad Salchow. Frowning and grumbling and acting like he hates the mere thought of it, but he's doing it nonetheless. It's a development he didn't expect to happen so soon and only reinforces his disappointment that he won't get to see the two of them train together over the season, convinced of how beneficial it would be for everyone involved.

The moment they notice he's there, they head to opposite sides of the rink to practice their individual programs. Victor wonders if he should've left them to their own devices after all.

Practice goes notoriously better than yesterday. Maybe it's because he's feeling a little lighter after his night out, maybe because Yuuri's finally starting to grasp Eros –though he still has ways to go to really embody the sensuality the program requires. Still, the future isn't looking as bleak or confusing as it has all week, and that's a start. He's finally seeing some of Yuuri's strengths actually manifest on the ice, the things that convinced him this crazy idea was worth pursuing in the first place.

Then he goes through a run of Agape with Yurio and his concerns about Yuuri return tenfold. It's like Yurio has become a completely different person. He's finally, _finally_ feeling and portraying Agape. Victor is bewildered, the waterfall training actually bore fruits. It's still imperfect –Yurio's concentration will shatter easily- but he's definitely ready to take it to the next level, which isn't quite the case with Yuuri just yet. Maybe the competition tomorrow will be a closer call than he'd expected.

As he observes Yurio, he feels Yuuri's eyes on him and can already tell the string is coiling around Yuuri's fingers as his anxiety mounts. And Victor disappoints himself when he realizes he still doesn't know the words Yuuri needs to hear to believe in himself the way Victor does.

He's running out of time for small steps.

* * *

Victor thinks every penny spent having all of his costumes shipped from St. Petersburg all the way to this distant rural Japanese town was worth it just for the way Yuuri's eyes sparkle as he sifts through them, feels their textures, examines the details, mumbling to himself things such as "Torino Olympics" or "senior debut", his voice thin with excitement and his cheeks flushed. He knows Yuuri's a fan, but seeing that translated into this unabashed display of wonder is uniquely adorable.

The next costume Yuuri picks up is the one he wore for his last season in the Junior circuit, when he'd broken the Junior World Record in Sofia. "My hair was long back then, so that costume is meant to give off both masculine and feminine feelings." He explains. The costume had also been inspired by themes of BDSM (he was a very curious teenager), but Yuuri didn't need to know that.

Yuuri examines the costume closely, and, to Victor's surprise, instead of moving on to the next one, he clutches it tight to his chest, his expression brightens. "I want this one!" he says, eyes wide with excitement, the flush on his cheeks turning vibrant red, and his smile lights up the whole room.

It's only in that precise moment that Victor gets hit with the thought of Yuuri wearing his old skin-tight costume on his naked flesh, of skating to sexual love with that costume that was already so erotic in its inspiration, of those mock sheer cut-outs and the half skirt around his waist, of how it'll flutter when he spins and accentuate his round _derriere_ , on how the fabric he'd worn so many years ago would now hug Yuuri's body tightly and…

Thankfully, Yurio pops out from the depths of a big suitcase holding an even older costume that is white and pure, like the Agape he's supposed to portray, and that helps Victor pull himself together before his body has time to physically manifest how impure his thoughts had become.

* * *

At last, the day has come. Ice Castle Hasetsu is packed with people. Both Yuris vibrate. Victor can almost touch their nervousness. But he can also feel how excited they are. There's static in the air. Yurio looks uneasy but confident, and Yuuri has that usual doubtful look, but with an edge to it. Like he has a secret ace under his sleeve. Victor is already trembling with anticipation.

When Yurio takes the ice, Victor is anxious. It's a strange, new feeling. He's never really coached anyone; in fact, never tried to teach anyone anything. Yakov wanted to partner him up with Georgi many years ago, but Victor wasn't interested. He's always been a little self-centered by nature, cooperation has just never been his _forte_. But now, in this position, it feels like it's all out of his hands. He did what he could, what he thought better –which, he realizes, wasn't really much- and now it's all up to Yurio to prove himself. And how he does that will also show whether Victor was able to competently guide him or if he just wasted everyone's time with this little experiment.

He wonders if Yakov's ever felt like this.

And here's another thing he wasn't expecting: the shock of watching a program he created, skated by someone else. He'd already experienced a bit of that when seeing Yuuri's video, and he's seen fan tributes before, but this is different. When Yurio hops and spins and showcases his purity, the innocence of his love, it gives Victor a different sort of accomplishment. Something he'd pictured in his mind and struggled with for weeks on end is being brought to life; but it's not his anymore. It's all Yurio.

The first half is mesmerizing. Victor wonders, wracking his mind, what is it that inspired this Agape. What is unconditional love for Yuri Plisetsky? There's a feeling of gratitude and nostalgia imbued into it that Victor hadn't really thought of before, not like this. It's the best skate he's ever seen from Yurio.

He falls apart during the second half, undoubtedly the exhaustion and the high physical demand of the jump layout were more than he could handle for his first senior competition. To his credit, the skate is clean and he finishes it without stumbling or falling, but his desperation to end is palpable, all semblance of Agape gone. Victor sees himself in Yurio's frustration, in that feeling of "I can do better."

"This is the best performance I've seen of you!" he calls from the sidelines, knowing it probably won't make him feel better now, but also knowing it's the kind of thing he needs to hear. The crowd cheers for him excitedly and Victor feels a new kind of pride swell in his chest. A self-serving kind because he knows his actual influence in Yurio's growth over this week has been minimal, but it's there nonetheless. He's surpassed his expectations for sure and Victor can tell, even now, that he'll go far regardless of today's results.

As Yurio glides to the rink exit, Victor feels a pull on his string and his eyes immediately go to Yuuri. And what he sees isn't good. Yuuri's completely stiff, hands clutching his hair, eyes downcast, and the string is starting to coil up his arm rapidly. He looks a lot like he did right before his catastrophic free skate at Japanese Nationals. Victor panics. If there's a repeat of that disaster, Yuuri will… but why? He looked so confident when they were warming up. And Victor can't even say anything because he's the judge and he's impartial.

Still, he surfs the crowd to where Yuuri stands, trembling.

"Yuuri, you're up." He says, hoping his tone won't convey his worry, that his smile is as reassuring as it needs to be.

Yuuri inhales sharply, looks up, swallows. Their eyes meet and he looks a little like he's about to cry, but instead covers his mouth with both hands, like he's just noticing, for the first time in two weeks, that Victor Nikiforov is right here in front of him. Victor holds his breath.

And then, Yuuri speaks.

"U-um I'm… I'm going to become a super delicious katsudon, so watch me closely, please."

Yuuri steps forward.

The world comes to a halt. In the freezing cold of the ice rink, heat blooms around Victor's body.

Yuuri hugs him.

Tight.

Victor's heart jumps.

"It's a promise!"

Through the thick layers of his coat, he can't feel Yuuri's heartbeat against his chest, but he knows it's there.

The string tangles and untangles around them and Victor is keenly aware of every single point of contact. And he feels Yuuri's labored breathing and the warmth of his body, and how he trembles, how he waits.

Yuuri's so unfair.

"Of course I will. I love katsudon." He says airily, his chest tight, every cell in his body trying not to show how affected he is. And when Yuuri pulls apart, Victor misses him and _aches_.

He can barely command his body to move, to turn around and look at the ice where Yuuri stands.

The moment the first notes of the guitar echo over the ice and Yuuri draws his hands over his body, Victor knows something has changed. This isn't the story he'd thought of when he created this program: he'd thought of Yuuri, a playboy that waltzed into that banquet room and danced with all the top skaters of the world until he set his eyes on none other than Victor Nikiforov, the Living Legend, _número uno_ , the most beautiful woman in town. And they'd danced the night away and lit a fire in each other's hearts, but then Yuuri had vanished, abandoned Victor like he never mattered, leaving behind nothing but coldness and the memory of his touch. Victor wonders if Yuuri missed it altogether or if he's just being cheeky with this new interpretation.

All of Victor's thoughts come to a complete halt –yet again- when Yuuri turns to look at him – _only at him_ \- and draws a seductive smirk on his lips. Like he knows there's no one more desirable in this room, maybe in the whole wide world.

 _Can you tell, who is it that I'm dancing for?_

Victor shivers and hears himself whistle.

He's doomed.

He's already promised Yuuri he'd watch him, but he doesn't even need that as an incentive. There's something magnetic about the performance that just keeps Victor's full attention, to the point he tries to will himself not to blink.

It's so different to what he'd envisioned.

And yet it's so erotic, so alluring, so intense and so desperate. It's sex and desire and passion.

Completely mesmerizing.

( _that triple axel was_ _ **ugly**_ , a tiny, _tiny_ , insignificant voice whispers, _he can do_ so _much better_ ).

Victor thought he was using Yuuri as inspiration for this program, but Yuuri's own rendition of it is so… extraordinary. Something Victor never imagined it could be. Maybe Yuuri has become Eros itself. Or maybe Eros has materialized as Yuuri.

Yuuri falls on the quad Salchow and Victor's breathe hitches. If he gets caught up on the mistake he's going to—

But he doesn't.

He keeps going and going.

Keeps dancing, like he knows that insignificant stumble does nothing to mitigate his charms, that he's still devastatingly captivating. Like _he's_ become the most beautiful woman in town, and she's teasing that pesky playboy, knows he wants her _desperately_ , and tells him "you'll never find anyone like me again". And she's right and he wants her even more.

Victor's mind races. His heart thumps against his ribcage, raw. His blood feels thick and hot. The red of the string looks sinful against the black mesh of the costume and Yuuri's pale skin. And it's pulling on him, inviting him to join that gorgeous creature on the ice and prostrate his entire life at their feet.

He's ruined.

The song ends and Eros embraces herself after discarding her unworthy lover. And there's Yuuri, panting, cheeks flushed, thread of crimson hugging his body and emphasizing every curve only for Victor's eyes to see.

The spell breaks when Yuuri turns to greet the audience, smiling, brighter than any smile Victor's seen on him since he arrived in Hasetsu. Victor lets go of a breath he didn't know he was holding, all tension leaving his body, and he has to remind himself that he's not supposed to ravish Yuuri on the ice (although he's not certain at this point whether Yuuri might actually _want_ to be ravished), so he finds himself smiling wide and unguarded, arms spread wide to give back the hug he wasn't able to reciprocate barely three minutes ago. It's alright though, because Victor feels like he doesn't remember, doesn't _understand_ who he even was three minutes ago.

* * *

Yurio's left before Victor could formally announce their results. It doesn't sit well with Victor, but he hopes that at least he's taken something from this experience: that he's learned to taper his arrogance, but also realize that he can do _so much more_ when he puts his heart into it. A part of him still wishes Yurio would stay. But it's also become apparent that this whole coaching business is way more demanding and complex than Victor ever gave it credit for, so maybe it'll be in everyone's benefit if he focuses on just one student.

Victor, always one for grandiosity, asks the staff to pull a carpet on the ice and even a small podium just so Yuuri can climb on it while he receives the makeshift trophy the Nishigori triplets prepared. While the stage is set, Victor joins Yuuri in the locker room, intending to congratulate him on his win –he's already given him quite an earful about his misses, he deserves a respite.

He forgets what he's doing when he finds Yuuri doing cool down stretches on the floor and notices the string pooling around him. His heart skips a beat, his mind races. What if…? The way he skated, the way he hugged him, the way he looked at him, what if Yuuri can…?

"Hey, Yuuri? What's that on your hand?" he says, or whispers, or maybe his voice is really high and rough, he doesn't really sound like himself, like he's choked on his own anticipation.

Yuuri looks up from his stretches, lifts his left hand, turns it around to look at the palm then repeats the action with the right hand and cocks his head. He doesn't even seem to spare a glance at his fingers. "What's what?" He asks, frowning in confusion.

Victor sighs. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little disappointed.

"Nothing." He chirps, "Thought there was a bug."

It doesn't matter, he tells himself, they're just getting started.

 **To be continued**

Woooo I'm so sorry it's taken so long to work this one out. In my defense I did say updates would be irregular ;-;

I don't have a lot to say about this one for some reason, but I do feel quite pleased with how some scenes played out. Especially Victor's little ramen adventure –and his Japanese mishaps-, it was very fun to write.

For anyone who was curious, the two blunders Victor falls victim to in his practice of Japanese are ひだり・みどり(left/green) and きもい・きもちいい(gross/feels great). Are these feasible mistakes people learning Japanese make? Dunno tbh. But once I read a fic in which Victor kept saying kirai instead of kirei and thought it was exaggerated, yet the other day a classmate of mine made the same mistake so *shrug*. Also, it is a scientific fact that Japanese people will tell you your Japanese is gr10 even if the only words you know are "arigatou" and "onegaishimasu". I did try to convey Victor's rough grammar going back from entry-level Japanese to English, hopefully that came across. I just find the notion of Victor never learning any Japanese in spite of living in full immersion in a godforsaken rural town in bloody Kyuushuu completely preposterous. He obviously has a knack for languages given he's canonically fluent in French, so there's just no way he didn't pick up a load of Japanese in eight months.

I kinda love writing about Victor being devastated by Yuuri's Eros lady. I was very insecure about how to portray it and I started procrastinating, and between that and getting caught up in my Rapunvitya fic, I let this one out to dry for a very long time, I'm very sorry ;-; I hope you enjoyed it and that you'll be patient with me. I'll be excitedly waiting to hear your thoughts

If you want access to deleted scenes, sneak peaks and early access to new chapters, consider becoming a $1 or $2 patron! I've a lot of exciting new goals and perks :D. If you enjoy my work and want to support me without the commitment, you can leave me a lil tip at my ko-fi. And if you want me to write something for you, I have open writing commissions. PM me for details. And even if you don't, please drop me a comment and let me know what you think, I love reading your thoughts on the story :3


	4. Chapter 4

Victor wakes up with the first light of sunrise, his body thrumming with excitement. Today is officially his first day as Yuuri's coach. Last night they finally got to share katsudon like they had promised and Yuuri had looked so genuinely happy Victor almost told him he could quit the diet forever. Then they'd said goodbye to Yurio, who was taken to the airport by the Nishigoris. Everything was set for a fresh start.

He's too restless to get back to sleep, so he hops off the bed, throws on his practice gear, and decides to go for an early run down the beach before heading to the Ice Castle. Strangely, Makkachin isn't there with him, and doesn't appear to be in any of his usual hiding spots around the inn, which makes him wonder if he's in Yuuri's room. He frowns. Why is his dog allowed to sleep with Yuuri when he isn't?

The thought isn't enough to sour his mood, so he goes through with his plan of a morning jog that turns out quite pleasant with the warm rays of the sun hitting the sand. He makes it to the Ice Castle at 7:00 sharp. The Nishigoris haven't arrived yet, but they've given him keys so he gets inside and starts doing warm up stretches. He figures Yuuri will be here any minute, so it's better to be ready for when he arrives. Japanese people are famous for their punctuality, after all, and Victor can't wait to get started.

* * *

Yuuri's an hour late.

He obviously didn't mean to be, given how he grovels (Victor's heard of how Japanese people can be too apologetic, but the famous dogeza has exceeded his expectations), but that doesn't really quell Victor's slight disappointment. Wasn't Yuuri eager to start practicing, now that they've officialized their coach-student relationship?

Once they get on the ice, the mood doesn't improve significantly, if at all. Yuuri's clearly distracted and keeps falling on his jumps. By the time they're done it doesn't feel like there's been any particular progress. They leave the rink, but instead of going back to the inn together, Yuuri turns the other way and heads to Minako's studio. Victor is already used to this pattern, but he had hoped something would change after Onsen on Ice. Even if it turned out Yuuri still couldn't see the string, Victor had felt a spark of something different between them after Yuuri hugged him and demanded his undivided attention. It's like he keeps running against a wall of vague, unreciprocated feelings and expectations with Yuuri and he's not sure what to make of it.

He doesn't stop at the inn for long, instead opting to take Makkachin on a short walk. Although it's getting late, the weather is nice and there is a fair amount of people on the streets. He passes by Nagahama Ramen and the shopkeeper greets him effusively. Victor waves and smiles, but doesn't stay for dinner; he doesn't have a lot of appetite tonight. Besides, it would be quite irresponsible to get drunk off his ass when he's at such an impasse with Yuuri. He needs to focus all his energies in figuring out what went wrong today and how to fix it.

His feet carry him aimlessly around streets he's slowly starting to grow familiar with, absentmindedly greeting a few faces he recognizes, catching scents of foods and spices that don't feel as strange as they once did. He's only been here for two weeks and he's already started to feel himself blend in with the quaint, calm atmosphere of Hasetsu; so different from the rush and noise of big capital cities, of hopping from plane to plane, spending every minute outside of the rink booking ad campaigns, sponsor meetings, interviews, autograph sessions, barely getting a moment to breathe in between.

It's nice, he thinks. The furor of his arrival has died down, the curious tourists that got hyped over meeting a "celebrity" –many of whom had probably never even seen a figure skating event- had left satisfied after their makeshift competition. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to relax, how much he's craved for peace and quiet without being chased by reporters and fans and Yakov. Before arriving here, he'd been a little worried about feeling caged in this small fishing town, but now he feels confident he could spend a year, or two, maybe more, who knows, enjoying the stillness of the streets as the sun sets in the distance, the last lingering cold breeze of winter grazing his cheeks before completely fading away.

Suddenly, Makkachin barks and bolts away, and that breaks the quiet. There's a yelp, followed by tinkling laughter, and the next thing Victor sees is his own dog pouncing a person to the floor, a person that giggles and calls Makkachin's name fondly.

"You know, I'm starting to think you're planning to steal my dog." Victor says with a cheery voice as he gets close enough to find Yuuri's face currently under siege by Makkachin's tongue.

Yuuri yelps again when their eyes meet. "V-Victor!"

He offers Yuuri a hand, which he takes once he's managed to nudge Makkachin off of him.

"Fancy meeting you here." Victor teases, reluctantly letting go of Yuuri's hand once he's back on his feet.

Yuuri blushes. "I-I guess, uhm… You've never come to the studio before."

It's only then that he realizes where his feet have taken him. He recognizes the building even though he's never been inside, nor can he read the letters printed on the windows.

"I was just walking Makkachin, since I didn't do it in the morning. Are you done with your practice?"

"Yeah, I was… hoping to catch a soak at the onsen and go to bed early so I don't oversleep tomorrow."

Victor grins "That's an excellent idea."

What a lucky thing, that his mindless wanderings would bring him right outside Minako's dance studio, and just in time to catch Yuuri on his way back home. Almost like it was fate.

He curls his pinky finger and feels the red string tightening around it.

"I was just about to head back myself, it's getting a little late after all and I'd like to take a dip too. Maybe we could discuss the layout for your free skate while we're at it?"

Yuuri seems to ponder the offer for a moment, petting Makkachin absentmindedly. If Victor were to take a guess, he'd think Yuuri's still feeling the leftover frustration from their unsatisfactory training this morning. But if Yuuri's going to get gold at the Grand Prix Final, they'll have to shake that uneasiness off and grow more comfortable working together on the ice.

"Okay." He says at last. "That sounds good."

"Great!" Victor cheers. "So let's head back before it gets any later." He proposes, making a sign to Makkachin to lead the way as they start the short stroll towards the inn.

They walk in pleasant silence for a block or two. Yuuri occasionally laughs when Makkachin veers off the path to sniff at a bush of flowers or bark at a seagull that flies above their heads and towards the ocean.

It's sort of their first time doing this kind of thing. Just walking together. Usually Victor will bike to the Ice Castle in the mornings while Yuuri jogs behind him, and then they'll take separate paths after practice. But this is nicer. Casual and comfortable. It's like one of those moments that are just made to drive people closer.

"What do you usually do at the studio?" Victor blurts suddenly, shattering the peaceful atmosphere. "If you don't mind me asking."

Much to his surprise, Yuuri actually smiles. "It's okay, I don't mind." A cool breeze blows by them and Yuuri pulls the zipper of his blue and white jersey up to his neck. "It's nothing too special, just practicing ballet. Helps me keep up my form." The response sounds incomplete, but Yuuri doesn't say anything else and Victor decides not to push.

"It really does help, doesn't it?" He chuckles, hoping to keep the mood light. "You know, Yakov's ex-wife was a prima ballerina for the Bolshoi and she used to grill me halfway to death when I was younger."

Yuuri's eyes widen. "You took ballet lessons from a prima ballerina? Of the Bolshoi? That's amazing!" He shifts his gaze and mumbles something to himself that Victor doesn't quite catch. "Ah, I'm sure Minako-sensei had really prestigious teachers too, but I don't remember their names. She doesn't talk a lot about it, but she traveled a lot before she opened the studio, dancing all around the world. She even received a _Benois de la Danse_."

Victor raises his eyebrows in astonishment. "That's actually really impressive." He knew Minako was a danseur, and he can tell by her poise that she's over-qualified to be running a tiny studio in a rural town, but he's never seen her dance. Besides, most of the times they've talked she's had at least two drinks in her, so he'd never really thought she would be so accomplished. Yuuri had also mentioned that it was Minako who suggested he took figure skating. Perhaps she'd been the first to actually discover Yuuri's talent and melodic grace. What a fortunate thing, that Yuuri had a teacher with a trained eye that would see his potential. If not for that, Yuuri might have never taken up figure skating.

He might have never crossed Victor's path, and he would've never seen the red string that linked their destinies. Fate's designs were truly mystifying.

"Maybe another day I can dig up Mom's old videotapes and show you some of Minako-sensei's performances. They're incredible."

Ah, the delightful chance of sharing Yuuri's passions. How could he say no to that?

"I think I'd like that a lot."

* * *

Victor likes to do a little stretching before actually walking into the steaming pool in which Yuuri's already dipped down to his collarbones. There's something strangely comfortable about sitting on the warm rocks of the outdoor bath with his legs spread in a full split, feeling the texture and heat directly on his naked skin.

After a little talking they have a general idea of what elements they can include in Yuuri's free skate, maximizing his talent for beautiful spins and enchanting step sequences, but Yuuri seems a little hung up on polishing his quad Salchow so he can have three quads in and Victor's not too sure about that idea. Jumping is still Yuuri's weakest point because he has a high chance of falling, especially with how easily he becomes riddled with unnecessary worries and doubts that break his concentration.

But most importantly, while Yuuri seems to believe he needs all those quads to win, Victor can't help but disagree. In all of Yuuri's old competitions there's a clear pattern of high PCS scores compensating for a number of technical deductions that make Victor believe Yuuri will have better chances if the flow of his program doesn't get broken by a bad landing or a popped jump.

"It'll be fine if you can get a perfect score on the program components!" he chirps confidently. Surely, if Yuuri can skate without worrying that he'll fail a big jump, his true performative abilities will shine through to the point no judge would dare give him anything but a perfect score.

Yuuri buries his head in his own arms that rest by the edge of the pool, mumbling to himself in Japanese again, of which Victor thinks he might have heard "not good". He can almost see the cloud of self-deprecation forming over Yuuri's head. There is no way Victor will let him continue to spiral downwards like this.

"Yuuri," he says, kneeling right in front of where his arms are folded, "do you know why I decided to become your coach?"

Yuuri flinches and lifts his head from his arms, as if he hadn't even thought about that. Surely he doesn't think Victor would've dropped his whole life in a blink for just the first drunk guy asking to be coached, right?

"What drew me to you was the music," he explains, grabbing both of Yuuri's hands and pulling him up and out of the water, little droplets leaking down his naked chest. The heat of the bath gives Yuuri's skin the loveliest of flushes, and it accentuates on his cheeks when their eyes meet. "You skate like you're playing music with your body."

It's not unusual for skaters, dancers and even non-artistically-inclined athletes to call their own body 'an instrument', but Yuuri's moves like every spin is a chord on the piano and every jump a scratch on the strings of a violin. Obviously Victor is not the first one to realize such qualities: Minako has trained him through dancing all these years and pushed him into figure skating and his previous coach spotted his potential in a competition in which he'd scored poorly; but he's wondering if maybe no one has actually told Yuuri about it. Which is preposterous, really. Does Yuuri truly not know how enchanting his skating can be?

(The answer is clearly 'no, he doesn't' if what Victor's seen in these past two weeks is anything to go by.)

"I want to create a high-difficulty program that maximizes that." He asserts. "I feel like I'm the only one who can do it."

Yuuri has clearly had good coaches and teachers, but for some reason none of them have been able to truly exploit the musicality that he inherently possesses, and Victor is determined to be the first one –the only one- to show the world what Yuuri Katsuki's truly capable of. If not for anything else, this red string brought him here for that purpose. Yuuri's wonderfully seductive performance at Onsen on Ice was all the proof Victor needed to know he hadn't imagined it all, that he'd made the right decision.

Boldly, he stands up and pulls Yuuri along with him, already feeling excitement build up in his chest.

"Maybe you could produce your free program!" he spills, stepping into the pool to stand behind Yuuri, randomly drawing his hands over Yuuri's body and cupping his cheek with his right hand to make him look up. With Yuuri's right hand above his stomach, the red string quivers excitedly over the span of his chest. Victor's left hand grazes Yuuri's calf, his fingers circle around his ankle and he slowly pulls his leg up into something resembling an arabesque.

"Huh?! That's not—My coach has always chosen my songs for me-!"

"Isn't it more fun to do it yourself?" There'd be no better way to showcase Yuuri's natural musicality, Victor reasons, than to let Yuuri choose a song that speaks to him, something he's comfortable with, something that vibrates in his blood, deep down to his very bones, a melody he _feels_ so intensely it'll pour out of him with every turn of his blades so that everyone can see it.

(The string feels tight on his flesh, tighter, and it quivers, and Victor's skin burns where he touches Yuuri).

They'll do it. Yuuri can choose a song that will be so inherently _his_ no one else will ever be able to use it again; Victor will choreograph a perfect program that accentuates it and draws on Yuuri's unexploited talents and Yuuri will surprise the whole world when he performs it and wins gold at the Grand Prix Final. It's going to be perfect.

* * *

The next couple of days seem to be the universe's best attempt at dampening his excitement. First there's the rain, which makes morning jogs less than ideal. Then there's Yuuri's previously discarded song proposal, which turns out to be as unexciting as Celestino had implied over the phone yesterday (Victor had been a little nervous talking to him. After all, the man had been there five months ago, the moment Yuuri smashed all of Victor's future plans whilst simultaneously implying he didn't want Celestino as a coach anymore, which was kind of rude now that he's thinking about it).

Yuuri also broods through most of their practices. Even when Victor tries to spark a conversation over dinner, he receives little more than hums and nods, Yuuri's mind clearly adrift. There's also how Yuuri continues to be much too preoccupied with jumps which naturally causes him to miss them more often than not, and it's a downward spiral of increasingly frustrating practice sessions.

Tension reaches a boiling point at the end of the week with Yuuri still unable to decide on a song. Incited by the Devil himself –or sheer stupidity- Victor attempts to tease Yuuri about how he's never had a lover, which in turn makes Yuuri snap at him with an angry, frustrated snarl.

He's crossed a line.

* * *

The gravity of what he did strikes him full force when Yuuri straight up starts avoiding him the moment they decide to call it a day. Victor's still feeling guilty about pouring salt into a wound of which Yuuri is much more self-conscious than Victor had originally anticipated, so he tries to alleviate the issue by proposing more off-ice quality time, but Yuuri turns him down at every opportunity and all but runs away from him all the way back to the inn and until he goes to bed. ("Yuuri, let's sleep together!" Victor tries, half joking, half desperate, and gets nothing but the slam of the door being shut in his face as a response.)

It's the worst sleep he's had in a really long time. He tosses and turns over the bed for hours until Makkachin gets tired of his shuffling around and leaves. Victor hears him whine down the hallway and the sliding of a wooden door followed by a soft, incomprehensible whisper.

That traitor.

When the first light of day filters into the room and his biological clock determines it is no longer time to be in bed, he's not sure if he's slept at all, but he gets up nonetheless. The weather looks decent, the sun is bright with a few menacing clouds lurking around, but Victor is too restless, though for different reasons than normal. So he gets up for his morning jog, hoping Yuuri will come to him –even an hour late would be fine- if he changes tactics and gives him some space rather than trying to crowd him and overcompensate. And then maybe he'll get a chance to properly apologize for his slip.

* * *

Victor's been waiting for three hours.

He's officially been Yuuri's coach for a week and all they've achieved so far is a vague notion of a free skate that has no music, half a dozen awkward practice sessions and a lot of anxiety over a lot of missed jumps. He's tried approaching Yuuri and he's tried giving him space, but it doesn't feel like they're getting anywhere, coaching or otherwise. Quite the contrary, he feels that whatever little progress they've made so far is slowly dissipating, as if Yuuri's once again closing himself off, and he hates it. He doesn't even have to look at it anymore to know the red string is twisting around his hand, feels it tightening all the way up to his forearm.

Something has to change.

* * *

He doesn't quite have a plan as much as he has a hunch, or maybe an instinct, that drives him to drag Yuuri with him to the ocean. The cries of the seagulls remind him of home in St. Petersburg, and that gives him a momentary illusion of confidence, of not being an outsider. This sight of the ocean, the harbor, the ships and the horizon, the smell of salt and the sticky humidity on his skin is something they share that's not the ice with all its implications; the best he can hope is that it will ease Yuuri's mind the way it does his.

"Do you ever have times like that, Yuuri?" he asks, tentatively.

There's something quiet that hangs between them, not quite tense, but not quite relieving either. Victor wants Yuuri to trust him, to feel comfortable enough with him that he'll let him know what troubles him, how he can help him. Even if it doesn't work right away, if Yuuri elects to stay curled into himself in silence for the rest of the afternoon, Victor thinks it's important that Yuuri knows he's willing to wait and listen, but that he won't press for more than what Yuuri's ready to give either. In his excitement for the future of their partnership, he'd tried to rush things forward and forgotten how important even the smallest of steps could be. He has to amend that.

"There was a girl in Detroit," Yuuri says, and it's a good start, even if his eyes are fixed on the sand beneath them and he shifts uncomfortably where he sits. "I felt like she was intruding on my feelings, and I hated that."

Ah. That makes sense. The more he's gotten to know Yuuri these weeks, the more evident it's become that the wild, lively playboy Victor had met at the banquet at Sochi was a rare and unique facet of a much more quiet, reserved and timid man, deeply private about his feelings and inadequacies. It doesn't take a lot of thinking to connect the dots between that story and everything that's happened these past weeks to realize that Yuuri's not only protective about his own feelings, but also fears displaying his insecurities and troubles.

"But then I realized," Yuuri continues before Victor has the chance to say anything, "That Minako-sensei, Nishigori, Yu-chan and my family… even though I'm weak, they never treated me like a weakling. They all believed that I'd keep growing as a person, and they never stepped over the line."

Victor processes his words as he speaks, in awe at what he finds to be yet another new layer of Yuuri that he hadn't seen before: a quiet yet smoldering strength, constantly struggling against his own self-doubts, fighting to accept and acknowledge the love he receives, even if a part of him seems convinced that he's not worthy of it.

"You're not weak, Yuuri." He says with confidence, "No one else thinks you are."

Because he knows it, he's seen it; the way Yuuri skates, the way he perseveres through the fear of failure, the way he pushes himself to do better and keeps trying and trying no matter how many times he falls. And he's felt the love and support and unfaltering faith from everyone around Yuuri. And Victor has the same faith too.

"What do you want me to be to you?" he hears himself ask, his eyes fixed on the red string that lies still between them. It makes sense, really, because Victor doesn't know what he wants their relationship to be, not yet, but he knows he wants Yuuri to see, to know that fate has put them in each other's paths, and he's willing to become anything Yuuri wants, needs, if that'll make him realize that he's not alone.

"A father?" Perhaps that would be awkward.

Yuuri shakes his head.

"A brother? A friend?" It's a good compromise, a very appropriate starting point, even if Victor already feels that he wants something different, something _more_. He's just not sure _what kind_ of more yet.

Yuuri hums, unconvinced.

"A lover then!" It's maybe too much, too soon, but he can't say he hasn't thought about it. He's willing to take that risk if that's what'll bring him closer to Yuuri, if it'll let him relive that dance that lit a fire in him for the first time in years, so many years, and which feels so distant now.

Yuuri leaps, flailing. "No, no, no!" he screeches, face burning red.

It feels a little like rejection and it hurts appropriately, but there's something else lingering there, something at the edge of Yuuri's flabbergasted expression, so Victor waits, hanging on to the silence.

"I want you to stay who you are, Victor!"

Oh.

It occurs to him for the first time that he's been rather unfair in the time he's been in Hasetsu. All along he's been waiting, hoping to find himself once again face to face with the boy from Sochi, the man who swept him off his feet on that fateful winter night, expecting to see that side of Yuuri surfacing again and making him relive the electric wonder of that party.

But he's learned since coming to Hasetsu that there's so much more to Yuuri than a charming, fearless dancer. He's seen Yuuri's insecurities, his fears, how his lack of confidence hinders his talent to the point of self-destruction. And Yuuri has opened himself up to him little by little, revealing his strengths and his weaknesses, showing him how he can surpass Victor's wildest imaginations and how much he needs to know he's loved, how little he believes in himself and how far he'll push himself in spite of it. There are so many facets of Yuuri that he's gotten to know in these few weeks –so many he hadn't even seen before today. He's seen Yuuri smile and on the verge of tears, has seen his perseverance and his self-deprecation, his seduction and his clumsiness, his kindness and his jealousy. And he knows he has so much more left to discover.

Yet he clings to that one night, that one single face of Yuuri, expecting, demanding to find it again, whereas Yuuri stands by him, hands trembling with fear and eyes burning with determination, asking him to stop pretending, telling him he doesn't have to play a part, to take a role. That he can just be himself and stand by his side. Victor's gotten so used to wearing masks, embodying a graceful champion, an immovable marble statue, that picture of perfection his fans and the media have always expected from Victor Nikiforov, the Living Legend, that it didn't even feel unnatural to think he just needed to find the right mask to fit Yuuri's expectations.

But Yuuri's not asking him to wear that mask. Yuuri's okay with just him. With Victor. Silly and clueless and whimsical Victor who's so tired of diets and photoshoots, forgets half of his promises, has no concept of tact, nor any idea of how to coach anyone but is doing his best because he genuinely wants to see Yuuri blossom, and would rather spend the day lounging around at Yutopia, eating katsudon and snuggling Makkachin, than hopping on a 12 hour flight for a three day competition and spending half his life in artificial hotel rooms.

He has all these flaws, all these quirks that he's always hidden from the public eye and Yuuri wants him nonetheless.

"I'll prove it to you with my skating."

The string ripples energetically between them and Victor is certain this is what fate must feel like.

"Okay, I won't hold back either," he reaches for Yuuri with his palm open. "That's my way of showing my love."

The clouds drift away and the sun shines atop their heads as Yuuri grabs his offered hand and squeezes it in a silent understanding.

'Love', he repeats in his mind, the warmth of Yuuri's hand spreading through his body.

Yes, it's the most appropriate word. It doesn't matter if it's ambiguous or vague, doesn't matter that he can't explain it more concisely. He doesn't need to label himself, he doesn't need to fall into a perfectly crafted role. He can just stay here and love Yuuri and learn what that love means, how many facets it can have, how it will shape his, no, _their_ destinies.

* * *

"Victor," Yuuri calls after they reach the inn and Mrs. Hiroko announces dinner will be ready in about an hour. "Do you… still need my help, uhm, studying?" he mumbles, eyes fixed on the floor.

It dawns on Victor that he's been so focused on figuring out what to do about Yuuri this week he'd completely neglected his Japanese studies. He's already experience how easily he can forget the language if he abandons it for some time, but if he's going to be in Hasetsu for at least a year he can't allow himself the luxury of slacking off.

Most importantly though, it's another opportunity to spend time learning more about Yuuri, and with the pleasant, comfortable mood they've set after their heart-to-heart at the beach, it sounds like a perfect idea.

Once in Victor's room, Yuuri sits on the couch with a pencil and some papers while Victor approaches the bookshelf where he's stored his textbook and flash cards. He stops midway, a new, exciting thought popping up in his mind.

"Teach me how to write your name."

"Uh?" Yuuri blinks rapidly, his long eyelashes fluttering behind his glasses. "Why do you want to write my name?"

Victor cocks his head to the side, his index finger pressed to the corner of his mouth. "What kind of coach would I be if I couldn't even write my own student's name?" he says, grinning. "I bet you can write my name in Cyrillic."

Yuuri almost jumps from his seat, flailing. "Th-this and that are completely different things!" he squeaks, and the way he thrashes on the couch almost makes Victor chuckle.

"Teach me please?" he insists, suddenly feeling stubborn about it.

Yuuri seems to hesitate for a moment, eying Victor from head to toe. "I'll write it so you can decide if you'd rather wait until you have more practice." He determines, picking up a pencil and a sheet of blank paper. Victor hurries to sit across from him and watches the movement of Yuuri's hand with rapt attention, marginally noticing how the red string curls with every stroke he writes.

When he's done, he turns the paper over so Victor can see it. Yuuri's writing is pristine, the characters are large and bold, with a notable separation between them, like he was very meticulous to write them so Victor could clearly distinguish every stroke. Victor sort of recognizes them on sight; he has seen them on the posters all over town after all, but he's never really stopped to analyze them. Except for the second one, all of them have a lot more strokes than any kanji he's practiced in the scarce weeks he's been in Hasetsu. He has to admit it looks like more than he can handle.

And yet, even in incomprehensible written form, he thinks the name looks lovely. Graceful. There is a sort of balance and symmetry to it.

"What does it mean?"

"Huh?"

"Your name. What does it mean?"

Yuuri blushes and immediately evades Victor's gaze, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. "N-nothing too important." He stutters, twiddling with his pencil between his fingers.

There are many things Victor could say. Like how there's no way Yuuri's name isn't important. Or that a name represents the parents' hopes for their child's future, and parents as kind and loving as Mr. Toshiya and Mrs. Hiroko would never give their child a meaningless name. But in getting to know Yuuri he's started to learn that such words might not necessarily have the intended effect. So he improvises.

"Is it the same 'katsu' for 'katsudon'?" he asks with feigned innocence.

Unexpectedly, Yuuri not only jolts but looks at him with indignant bewilderment. "What?! _No_!" He points at the first character with determination. "This means 'victory'" he says. "And this is 'life'" he traces over the simpler looking kanji. "Katsuki." Then he moves on to the third kanji, going over the strokes. "The 'yuu' is for 'courage'." He continues, "and the last one doesn't mean anything special, it's just on my father's and sister's names too. It's a fairly common custom."

Victor follows the paths traced by Yuuri's fingers, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. "So 'victory' and 'courage'…" he muses. "It's an excellent name. It suits you." As expected of Yuuri's kind and loving parents.

Yuuri blushes. "Not at all. It makes me sound so much stronger than I am."

"Yuuri, didn't we discuss this already? You _are_ strong. A lot more than you give yourself credit for. And neither I, nor anyone who knows you thinks otherwise. I know how strong you are, and your parents knew since you were born that you'd become really strong. They did give you this wonderful name after all." He presses his fingertip to the first kanji, the one for 'victory'. "And, you know? My name's meaning is pretty straightforward. And it just so happens to match yours." He looks up at Yuuri's eyes, widened like he had never thought of the coincidence. "We're definitely going to win the Grand Prix Final." The red string ripples and twists into itself, slightly pulling their hands closer to each other. It was a work of destiny after all "So… will you teach me?"

He doesn't miss Yuuri's sharp inhale, or the blush on his cheeks and the shy curl of a smile on his lips when he nods a soft "Okay."

* * *

The next morning, Victor finds himself awake with the first light of day, as restless as ever, but bubbling with excitement once more. He leaps out of bed and throws his training gear on, ready to blow off some steam with a morning jog and wait for Yuuri at the ice rink even if he runs in a little late, confident things will finally start improving.

Of course, Yuuri never quite does what Victor expects him to, and thus Victor finds him standing right outside his bedroom the moment he slides the door open.

"Ah, Victor!" he greets, shyly, taking a step back. "I just thought… if you don't mind I'd like to uh, join you. On your morning jog I mean."

It takes him a moment, but once he processes the words, Victor can't help the wide grin that pulls at his cheeks. "Excellent, Yuuri! I love that fighting spirit!"

* * *

They trot at a light pace all the way to the bottom of the stairs that will lead them to Hasetsu Castle. Victor thinks if he had any lyrical talents, he could write a poem about the wonders of jogging shoulder-to-shoulder with Yuuri, the spring breeze grazing his cheeks, hearing only the sound of Yuuri's measured exhales.

"Let's climb the stairs and take a short break before we head back to Ice Castle." Victor proposes, somehow wanting to prolong this moment.

Makkachin has already rushed up the stairs and is barking at them to follow him, which makes Yuuri laugh. "Okay just… go on ahead, I need to catch my breath."

Victor does as he is told and catches up to Makkachin at the top of the stairs, where he slows down to a halt. He turns around and sees Yuuri has already started his jog up the stone stairs. In that moment, Yuuri looks up and their eyes meet. Suddenly, their surroundings seem to not exist anymore. Yuuri's eyes widen and he blushes beyond the redness from the exhaustion. His pace increases, as if the red string was pulling him forward and he looks at Victor like he's never seen him before. Victor's breathe hitches. There's something unique and inexplicable about seeing Yuuri running up to him that makes him want to spread his arms wide to make space for Yuuri's body to fit against his.

Somehow he finds the strength to resist the impulse, and Yuuri reaches the summit panting, but wearing a satisfied smile on his face that Victor hopes he can see him wear after a good skate.

They sit on the stone bench that gives a perfect view of the city as they unwind from the long path. Victor can see Ice Castle and make out the neighborhood that houses Yutopia. Although Hasetsu is a small, unassuming town compared to St. Petersburg, there's a humming bustle to it from this perspective that makes it feel incredibly alive and welcoming.

Makkachin woofs and places his front paws on Yuuri's knees. Yuuri pets him and coos at him with a smile, and Makkachin responds licking the tip of his nose.

"He seems to like you a lot." Victor says contemplatively. Makkachin has always been a friendly dog, but his almost instantaneous attachment to Yuuri is something Victor had never seen before.

"He's very cute." Yuuri responds, slowly running his fingers through the curls of thick fur on Makkachin's head. He pauses with his hands resting behind Makkachin's ears. Makkachin whines to demand more affection, but Yuuri looks up at their panoramic view of the city and his eyes suddenly look distant and thoughtful. "Since I was little I always thought poodles were very cute. I had one before; he was a Toy."

Noticing the shift in tone, Victor stays quiet and alert, assessing every word that falls out of Yuuri's lips carefully. It doesn't take a lot of analyzing to understand, though.

 _I had… he was…_

"I got him when I was twelve; his name was Vicchan. He was my best friend."

Victor connects the dots fairly quickly. Yuuri at twelve; that name Mrs. Hiroko calls him occasionally…

"He passed away in early December, when I was in Detroit training…"

More pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Victor remembers watching Yuuri's videos at the Grand Prix Final, confused by the way he collapsed into himself over the course of the competition, by how soulless and defeated he looked before he even took the ice.

Understanding makes his heart break. He chews on his bottom lip and feels a rush of tears sting at the corners of his eyes. In his blood he feels a physical need to hold Yuuri, to comfort him, to say something to make him feel better, anything that will make the grief even the slightest bit lighter.

 _I felt like she was intruding on my feelings, and I hated that._

But Victor doesn't want to make Yuuri feel like that. He wants Yuuri to know he acknowledges his feelings, respects them, but also that he can talk to him about it, or ask for his company, or request to be left alone, and that Victor will meet him halfway, find him where he stands.

"I'm sorry, Victor, I shouldn't have brought it up out of nowhere like that, it's… I'm sorry."

The red string lies still between them, like it too is unsure of what to do now.

"Yuuri, can I hug you?" Victor asks, quietly, keeping his distance. "If that'll make you uncomfortable I'll stay here, it's okay. Anything you need, Yuuri."

Yuuri turns to look at him and Victor notices the pools of tears glistening at the corners of his eyes, ready to drop in the next heartbeat, or the one after. The sight breaks Victor's heart. "Y-you don't have to… I'm…" his lower lip trembles, like he's doing his best effort to hold back a little sob. He stays quiet for a moment, struggling to form any words.

And then he nods.

Tentatively, Victor scoots closer and opens his arms.

Just as tentatively, Yuuri leans forward until Victor can feel the shiver of a sob against his chest and the wetness of tears on his shoulder.

It's an awkward hug, quiet and a little bit tense.

"Victor I'm so—"

Victor cuts him off with a tight squeeze and a shake of his head. "I'm here for you, Yuuri." He says, not knowing how else to make Yuuri stop feeling like he has to apologize for crying.

"I really… really miss him…" Yuuri mumbles, his voice muffled by the fabric of Victor's shirt.

"I know." He rubs Yuuri's back with his hands, hoping it is at least somewhat soothing. "You loved him very much and you made each other very happy. I'm sure he felt lucky to be your friend and to be loved by you." He knows the words aren't comforting and that they probably do nothing to alleviate Yuuri's sadness. He feels like a failure, not knowing what to do to make Yuuri feel better.

They don't say anything else for a few moments, minutes maybe. Yuuri's face is buried in Victor's shoulder and his arms are wrapped tight around his waist. Every once in a while, he lets go of a soft breathy sob. Victor thinks that this might be the first time Yuuri's even allowed himself to mourn and be comforted by anyone else.

Makkachin whines and noses at Yuuri's hand. Yuuri flinches and pulls back from Victor's embrace. His lips form a sad little smile and he pets the top of Makkachin's head gently.

"I'm sorry, Makkachin, that was rude of me." He says lightly. He pulls his glasses up so he can wipe the tears off his face and shakes his head as if he can shake off the sorrow just like that. He looks up and his reddened brown eyes meet Victor Once again. "I…" he begins, pausing to nibble on his lower lip, his eyes never leaving Victor's "We have an altar, at home. For Vicchan." He trails off, looking unsure of what he wants to say.

Victor is once again still left in awe at Yuuri's strength, how he picks himself back up even in his darkest moments. How he's willing to open up little by little and trusts Victor to see his raw, vulnerable side. Victor swears to himself that he will prove he is worthy of such trust.

"I would be honored to leave an offering for Vicchan when we get back home." He says, smiling a little, laying a hand on top of Yuuri's palm.

Yuuri inhales sharply "Thank you," he mutters, and his eyes shimmer brightly, "I'm sure he'll like it."

* * *

Victor had already been aware of Yuuri's outstanding (which was a nice way of saying 'monstrous') stamina ever since he'd seen Yuuri outdance half the people in the banquet room, back in Sochi. But experiencing it firsthand via thousands of rounds of quad-only practice was a whole other thing (Yuuri says they've _only_ done it thirteen times, but Victor definitely feels like he's done ten-years-worth of jumping just in the last four hours). It's been a long time since he last felt so exhausted and breathless after practice, to the point where he's finding it hard to stay on his feet.

He doubles over to wipe the ice shavings from his blades, and his knees tremble a little. _You're getting old_ , they say. It's an unpleasant feeling, more for the dread of inevitability than the actual physical pain itself.

Something pushes deep against the crown of his head, interrupting his ruminations. It's a brief, but firm touch and it freezes Victor on the spot.

Yuuri yelps and the pressure recedes, but Victor only has one thing in mind:

"Is it really getting that thin?"

His weakness has been exposed.

He doesn't even hear Yuuri's apologetic screeches as he collapses on the ice, wounded.

After a moment, though, as his face starts growing numb from the ice, it occurs to him that showing his weaknesses to Yuuri –like Yuuri has trusted Victor with his-, might not be such a bad thing. He thinks, _knows_ , that Yuuri is someone he can trust with this weirder, lamer, imperfect side of his. Because he can believe now that Yuuri would accept him in spite of it.

"Victor, I'm _so sorry_ , please get up, I'll do anything!"

Victor perks up, suddenly stricken with an idea.

"Let me do your hair."

Yuuri stops his groveling to stare at him with confusion. "What?"

"Just let me." Victor grins, fingers twitching with anticipation. "You made fun of my hair so it's only fair after all." He accuses playfully, his dismay and mortification mostly forgotten.

Yuuri frowns, "But I didn't—" he protests and Victor is about to lie back down and proclaim himself dead, but Yuuri sighs. "Fine." He pouts, pursing his lower lip, and it's stupidly endearing. "Why do you even want to do that?"

Victor gets up and starts gliding towards the rink exit, eager. "I saw how you styled your hair for Onsen on Ice and wanted to try it too. It makes you look so different!"

The golden light of sunset filters inside the building as they take off their skates and head to the dressing room. Yuuri gives him his hair brush and gel and sits on a bench that leaves his head in perfect position for Victor to reach it. His shoulders are a little tense.

"D-don't start fooling around, okay?"

"I'd _never_!" Victor gasps in feign offense, absentmindedly carding his fingers through Yuuri's hair. It's thick and rich and a little damp with sweat. If he lets his mind wander, he might think he's dipping his fingers into a pool of liquid midnight.

Before he starts actually doing his hair, he reaches for a towel and ruffles it over Yuuri's head, paying special attention to the tips to dry off the sweat. When he's satisfied, he folds the towel and puts it aside so he can grab the brush and make a couple of tentative strokes, relishing in the nice, comfy sound of the movement. He begins at the top of Yuuri's head and glides the brush downwards to his front bangs, flattening his hair slowly, enjoying every time his fingers graze Yuuri's soft locks. He repeats the motion over and over, slowly until Yuuri's humming pleasantly and his hair is shiny and fluffy.

Then he switches over to the comb and starts treading through Yuuri's dark hair, careful so he doesn't pull on a knot, but Yuuri's hair doesn't tangle and instead just flows through the comb's teeth with ease. One time, Yuuri yelps as the comb scratches his scalp lightly.

"Are you trying to get revenge by making _me_ go bald?"

" _Yuuri_!"

Finally he dips four fingers in the jar of gel and spreads it over both of his hands before once again carding his now sticky fingers through Yuuri's thick hair, making sure to spread it over every strand until all his hard work brushing and combing is undone and turned into a messy black goop. Then he picks up the comb again, but this time he uses it to direct Yuuri's bangs up and backwards, clearing his forehead, while his other hand flattens the hair on the back of his head. He takes his time, making sure every strand of hair is perfectly in place, not a single one of them threatening to obstruct his vision. It's such a different look on him: more mature and sexy, definitely fitting for that Eros vision (though Victor's seen Yuuri dancing on a pole with virtually no clothes to speak of and having his hair down had not made it any less erotic).

He pets Yuuri's head lightly, satisfied with his work. His hands are messy and glossy with the transparent hair gel. For some reason, none of it has gotten on the red string, which doesn't show any sign of sticky goop. Even knowing it's a legendary item of fate, he's still mystified by some of its qualities.

It gives him an idea.

"Yuuri, look!" he exclaims, waving his right hand in front of Yuuri's face. "Don't you think my hand looks gross with all this gel?" he asks, a little embarrassed by how childish and silly it sounds.

Yuuri cocks his head lightly, but Victor can't see what kind of expression he's wearing.

"Not particularly? It's just, uh… shiny?"

Victor frowns. "Are you sure, Yuuri? Look closely, it looks all gooey and disgusting." And he wiggles his pinky finger to the point of exaggerating.

Instead of reacting or mentioning the one thing Victor wants him to, Yuuri reaches for a paper towel and wipes Victor's hand with it.

"There, it's better like this, right?" he asks, showing no reaction otherwise, even if the red string is pretty much hanging in front of his eyes.

With a disappointed sigh, Victor reminds himself that they've barely started to really communicate and get to know each other and has to force himself to accept that he needs a little more patience. The time will come; he's sure of it. He trusts fate will show them the way eventually.

* * *

It's not the sunlight that awakens him, but Makkachin's pained squeal, which he promptly forgets once he opens his eyes and turns on his multiple bedside lamps to find Yuuri on top of him. Straddling his waist. And Victor is not wearing any clothes.

However, before he can even get aroused or figure out what is going on, Yuuri thrusts a pair of earbuds in his ears.

Suddenly there's a piano that flutters shyly, rising boldly at times, growing quiet and self-conscious at others, struggling alone to stay on its feet, to keep from falling and fading and never quite stops trying.

Then there's a violin that mimics the piano's melody, enhances it, follows it like it's pushing the piano forward with confidence and enthusiasm. It gives the piano more momentum. And the piano takes from the violin, renews itself with and becomes stronger and more confident.

The next moment the violin disappears and the piano becomes slow and contemplative, quiet, like it's afraid and lonely again, even more than before. Yet it refuses to give up. Little by little it starts rising the tempo again, more hesitant, but also more daring in its highs.

And then at last the violin comes back, but this time it sings its own melody that nonetheless compliments the piano; instead of pushing it forward from the sidelines it's like they hold hands , soaring, and dance together intensely as the song reaches its climax, like they can never be torn apart again.

He looks up at Yuuri in wonder.

It's perfect.

* * *

Everything starts falling into place.

Together they create a choreography that tells Yuuri's story and matches the feelings of the music and it's fantastic. Victor has choreographed many of his own programs, but this might be his best work so far. It's probably because he didn't do it alone.

They're getting ready for practice and the ice shines with the reflection of the sunlight. They're here early as usual, earlier than the Nishigoris or any other staffers –jogging all the way from Yu-topia together in the mornings has become a habit in these scarce few will make his first run of his free skate today, so they're just nailing down the last details of his program layout. When Victor proposes changing the last jump for a quad toe, Yuuri looks uncertain for a moment, but immediately accepts the challenge. Victor still finds himself in awe with his fierce courage. Even if Yuuri doesn't think so, his name fits him to perfection.

"Yuuri have you changed the theme for this song?"

Yuuri nods, shyly at first, but then he meets Victor's gaze with determination. "The theme is 'in regards to my love'" he says.

Victor's heart skips a beat. He thinks of the beach and the seagulls and Yuuri's quiet strength.

 _I just want you to stay who you are, Victor._

Love, truly, is the most perfect word to describe it.

 **To be continued**

Small note, if any dialogue looks different from the official subs is because I felt that particular translation was insufficient (for instance "… even though I'm weak, they never treated me like a weakling" the subs ommitted the part where Yuuri calls himself weak which is what prompts Victor's "you're not weak" response)

There are so many important moments in episode 4 and of course I had to add my own ones Dx. The scene of Victor learning Yuuri's name was originally in chapter 3 but I moved it here because I think that conversation about Yuuri's strength worked better after the beach scene. Episode 4 is extremely important and extremely underappreciated and I'll never shut up about it. Literally all I hope for this chapter is that I managed to convey how hugely important the beach scene is.

I also want to give a shout out to Celestino Cialdini who is a Good Man and cares about Yuuri a lot and did everything to cheer him up and be a good coach to him and still had to watch Yuuri drunkenly beg some random dude to become his coach. Yuuri is a little bitch when you think about it, just saying.

In the Japanese script, when Victor says "the way you skate like you're creating music with your body", he uses the verb 奏でる which means "to play an instrument", so Victor is actually equating Yuuri's body to a musical instrument and for some reason that specification is very important to me ;-; Also the piano/violin metaphor for Victor and Yuuri is literally everything in my life and Yuri on Ice (the track) makes me cry every single time ;-;

I was unsure about including the Vicchan scene because I've written about it before and felt it might be repetitive, but I think this is something they ought to talk about eventually because it doesn't look like Yuuri ever really had the chance to mourn and due to my personal circumstances, I feel very attached to Vicchan so I hope it came out right and it's not disruptive.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please don't hesitate to hmu at my tumblr lia-nikiforov. I also have a ko-fi and a P*tr*on if you want to support my work, PM me for details. Or just drop me a comment and tell me what you thought of this chapter, I'd really love to hear your opinions :)


	5. Chapter 5

How fast time flies, Victor ponders as he buttons up his suit for his grandiose coaching debut. It feels like it was just yesterday that the internet blew up after the triplets posted that photo of him doing Yuuri's hair, but that was actually four months ago, back in May. Victor remembers looking through the comments and finding a few in Japanese, and how Yuuri's ears turned bright red when he read them. " _They look like a married couple_." One of them said. Victor hadn't slept that night, his heart had been thumping so loudly.

So much has happened since then. They've trained and trained so much Victor has Yuuri's program layout tattooed inside his eyelids and he goes through the whole thing mentally at least three times before going to sleep, trying to think of even the smallest possible improvements. There have been good days in which everything flows so seamlessly Victor thinks Yuuri would've broken a World Record if any judges had been there to see him. And there have also been very bad days in which they stumble at every turn, and afterwards Yuuri flees to the dance studio to unwind alone. Victor picks him up at sunset and they stay quiet until they're back home in Victor's room studying Japanese. Victor has also started sneaking in some basic Russian ("you might need it in Moscow!") and afterwards, when Yuuri goes to bed, he says 'Thanks, Victor', and smiles, and Victor knows they'll be okay.

But of course, there's been so much more than just training. Summer brought with it a lot of fun Japanese customs he'd never even heard of. They went to fireworks festivals and Victor got a little tipsy on more than one occasion and tried to get Yuuri drunk too, without much success. On the 7th of July they wrote wishes on colorful papers and hung them from a bamboo plant. When Victor asked to see Yuuri's it was all scribbled in illegible Japanese, too different from the pristine writing he used when they studied. In petty revenge, Victor wrote "To make our feelings match" in Russian and was pleased to see Yuuri frown at it.

 _"Hikoboshi-sama won't make your wish come true if he can't understand it."_ He pouted.

(he was more pleased to make out the katakana of his name on Yuuri's wish).

On days where the weather was warmer, they'd go to the beach and play with Makkachin on the sand and swim in the ocean. They'd wash the sand off in the showers by the beach and Victor would impulsively ruffle Yuuri's head "to get all the sand off" and Yuuri would laugh and dig his hands into Victor's hair too. There was one time in which they stayed there until the sun started setting and Victor had started replaying one of his programs on the sand, then Yuuri had followed him until they were sort of dancing clumsily, laughing, with Makkachin bouncing between them and getting tangled in their feet. Victor thinks he'll remember that day and the brightness of Yuuri's smile for as long as he lives.

The suit is a little stiffer than it was supposed to. It's a good suit, tailor made, expensive, it makes him _look_ rather smart, but a part of him doesn't quite feel so. He won't deny he's a little nervous. Actually, more than a little. It's like the feeling he had during Onsen on Ice, amplified by ten. Or by one thousand.

It's his first time coaching Yuuri through an official competition; everything must go perfectly. He wants to prove to Yakov and Celestino (and himself) that he can be a good coach, that he's not fooling around and that he can help Yuuri skate to his full potential, make it so that Yuuri feels proud of himself and shows everyone how talented he is.

He does a once over of himself on the mirror, adjusting his necktie, lapels and hair one last time before putting on his gloves. The ID tag that hangs from his neck shows his photo, his name written in neat katakana (he can read those fluently now) and the word "COACH" in big bold letters.

He can do this.

The camera flashes blind him as he walks out to the main hall; people screech his name. This is his element, he can do this. Just find the right mask and—

"Why have you changed clothes?!"

Every imaginable carefully crafted mask crumbles before he can even wear it. It always seems to happen with Yuuri.

"It's my glorious debut as your coach, I _have_ to dress formally!"

Yuuri sighs in despair, hiding his face in his palms. "Of course you do…" He whines.

Victor's heart warms. That's right, Yuuri is already nervous enough for both of them, Victor's job is to give him confidence to get past it and skate his best. He's Katsuki Yuuri's coach. This is not the time to be nervous.

* * *

The rink is quite small, barely big enough to host a competition. It's to be expected considering it's just a minor regional qualifier, with barely a dozen skaters competing in all four divisions, but Victor can't help feel slightly concerned. Yuuri's been practicing at the significantly more spacious Ice Castle all these months, and even before that, he'd been used to the huge rinks of the elite international competitions. If he's not mindful of this downsize, he might end up crashing against the barriers.

In spite of that nagging concern at the back of his mind, Victor can't help the bubbling excitement surging in his chest as Yuuri unzips his Team Japan jacket and takes his skate guards off for the last warm-up.

"As your coach, what should I say before sending you off?" he asks, bouncing on the tips of his toes. He can think of many words of encouragement, but he's learned that regular motivational speeches don't necessarily work for Yuuri, depending on his state of mind. "I've been thinking—"

Yuuri steps on to the ice without even acknowledging Victor, and for a brief moment he's afraid he's said something to make him upset. But it only takes a single glance to recognize the tightness in Yuuri's mouth, the rigidity of his shoulders. He doesn't even attempt the quad Salchow during the warm-up, and marks some of the spins very slowly. Yuuri's nervous, moreso even than this morning during open practice or when they spoke to the press. Victor has to do something about it or this could end in disaster.

The warm-up ends and Yuuri skates up to him to take a gulp of water, not even trying to dissimulate that he's avoiding Victor's gaze. If he asks directly, Yuuri will surely say everything's alright. It's one thing about Yuuri that drives him mad. He'll have to improvise.

"Yuuri, turn around."

"Eh?"

"Just turn around."

Frazzled, Yuuri turns his back to him, a different kind of tension visibly climbing up his body. Victor's breath catches for a moment, once again hit by the reality of Katsuki Yuuri wearing his old costume, the fabric stretching over every line, every curve, every angle, every exquisite detail of Yuuri's toned, graceful body. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around Yuuri's shoulders, pulling him as close as the barrier between them will let him. Yuuri squawks, but stays put.

The crowd gasps. Camera flashes blind him. Every single eye on the room is fixed on them.

His lips ghost over Yuuri's ear. "Seduce me with all you have." He whispers, his voice dropping an octave as his chest starts to heat up with the feeling of Yuuri trapped in his arms. "If you can charm _me_ with your performance, everyone else here will be completely enthralled by you."

Among the many things he's discovered about Yuuri in these five months, perhaps the most fascinating of them is how, in spite of how nervous and insecure he might be off the ice, the moment he steps on to compete, Yuuri feels determined to capture the audience's full attention. It borders on a voyeuristic fixation, a desire to be watched and admired. Victor just needs to remind him of that thrill to get him to become that seductress that could take everyone's breath away with just a provocative smile.

"O-okay." Yuuri stutters, and Victor reluctantly lets him go so he can take his starting position.

The crowd goes quiet. The strings of the guitar inundate the rink. And right before everyone's eyes, Yuuri transforms into the most beautiful lady in town. Incomparable, unobtainable. The intense step sequence conveys one simple message: no one could ever be worthy of her. And then, there he is, the lucky fool that has earned himself her graces. The red string curls and quivers as if to emphasize the passionate encounter of the would-be lovers. The outside spread eagle into the triple axel is a thing of beauty. Victor can't think of many (maybe any) skaters that have a triple axel as lovely as Yuuri's.

And then, just as the lady and her chosen lover become entangled in the game of love, the program starts to fall apart. Yuuri has a hand down on the quad Salchow, and that rattles him enough that, rather than performing the story, he seems to be purely going through the motions. For a moment, it even seems like he's _forgotten_ what the story even is. The red string stops dancing with him and goes completely limp, as if it's lost interest. The crowd grows excited as the tempo and tension of the music escalate, but Victor finds himself feeling disappointed. He's seen Yuuri do so much better, so much more beautifully, and this seems horribly sub-par in comparison (he also doubles the planned triple toe in the last combination, but honestly Victor would rather have him pop all of his jumps than perform such a soulless program).

He crosses his arms over his chest and glares as Yuuri glides towards him.

"The first part was great, but you lost it at the second half, you were too focused on the jumps. I don't really like that kind of thing." He says, his voice and expression cheery, but he can tell by Yuuri's flinching that he's perfectly aware of how annoyed Victor is. And he is _very_ annoyed. He gave Yuuri clear instructions " _seduce me_ ", yet he'd completely forgotten about it because he was too preoccupied by his jumps.

Of course, Victor has never been one to feel satisfied with just the average, so he lands the death blow when Yuuri's scores are announced.

"I expected your score to go over 100."

That ugly side of him that is petty and needlessly vindictive feels profoundly pleased by the resigned dismay in Yuuri's voice.

* * *

The interview with the media is off to a pretty good start. Reporter Morooka is a huge fan of Yuuri, so his questions are always creative and poignant. Victor is also quite pleased with his ability to understand and reply to all the questions from the Japanese media, only asking Yuuri a few questions here and there to clarify. He briefly wonders if Yuuri's at least a little bit proud of how far Victor's come with his language studies, and under different circumstances he might have asked for Yuuri's feedback. Yuuri's still a little downtrodden from Victor's earlier lecture and his demand to lower the technical components for his Free tomorrow, so he keeps the question to himself.

"Yuuri-kun, did you watch my Lohengrin performance?"

Victor turns around to see one of the competitors, Minami Kenjirou approaching Yuuri with en expression full of expectation. He remembers the triplets mentioning this kid (he's older than Yurio, but if he hadn't researched him before, he might've have taken him for a Novice) who had beaten Yuuri at Japanese Nationals last year, which made him look into some of his performances. Fresh out of Juniors, rough on the technical content but overflowing with charisma, it's undeniable the kid has a bright future in figure skating. He slightly regrets missing out on his short program.

The boy's look of ultimate disappointment when he hears Yuuri didn't watch him makes Victor want to apologize. It only gets worse when Kenjirou tearily unzips his jacket to showcase his costume, a very close imitation of one Yuuri had worn a few years ago, in one of his most passionate programs of his early Senior seasons. The kid's not just a competitor, Victor realizes, he's Yuuri's fan.

It's very easy to forget it, given how much Yuuri downplays himself on a regular basis, but Victor is very much aware of Yuuri's huge popularity, not just in Hasetsu, but in Japan overall. He is their ace skater after all. He's a role model for a lot of young Japanese boys, and Victor's seen interviews with at least a dozen Junior skaters that have openly spoken about how deeply they admire him. Minami Kenjirou is undoubtedly one of those kids (and one with impeccable taste for sure; Yuuri's Lohengrin had driven Victor to tears the first time he watched it).

Not that Victor expected any different, but Yuuri's not particularly flattered by the homage.

"Ah… a costume from my dark past." He grumbles, nervously, shaking with shame.

What Victor truly didn't expect was how that simple sentence seemed to make the whole room snap.

"You don't have such a thing as a dark past!" Young Kenjirou barks, angry tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. "Don't make fun of me just because I've been looking up to you and chasing after you for so long!" He points his finger at Yuuri, his stance firm. "I'll skate with everything I've got for tomorrow's Free. Please fight me with all you've got, Yuuri-kun! I won't forgive you if you slack off!"

Reporter Morooka and the spectators around them start squealing in excitement, praising the young man issuing a challenge for his lifelong idol. Yuuri trembles where he stands, sweating nervously without saying a word. Victor cups his chin with his fingers and watches quietly as Kenjirou's posture never wavers, the determination of the challenge burning bright in his eyes.

Things just got quite interesting.

* * *

Yuuri's mostly quiet after the event, as they dine with Minako and Takeshi and head back to the hotel. Victor isn't sure if he's still thinking about Minami's challenge or if he's feeling down after Victor's vengeful lecture (he really should've been able to score above 100 though), but neither Minako nor Takeshi say anything, so he decides to do the same. In the past five months, he's learned the importance of Yuuri's boundaries, that he needs those moments of contemplative silence to figure things out on his own.

Still, as the silence stretches over their night routine, he can't help worrying. He's not entirely confident in his ability to tell when Yuuri's thoughts may take a turn in the wrong direction. The red thread hangs limp in the space between them.

"Yuuri?" he calls tentatively as he finishes brushing his teeth.

"Yes?" Yuuri rises from behind the bed, where he was fussing with his bag, probably triple-checking his costume and skates for tomorrow.

Now that he's broken the silence, Victor isn't really sure of what to do. The string buzzes momentarily. Victor wonders if Yuuri can feel it, even if he can't see it.

"You'll dazzle them tomorrow." He says clumsily, and immediately regrets it, thinking he might have just put useless additional pressure on Yuuri's shoulders.

To his surprise, Yuuri's cheeks light up in the faintest blush, and his lips curl in a small, barely noticeable smile. "I hope I do."

The string ripples sharply. Victor's heart skips a beat.

"I know you will."

* * *

Victor overhears the other skaters excitedly discuss their plans for the free skate as he watches Yuuri lace up his boots. All three of them sound very hyped about attempting jumps they have never landed before, and Victor doesn't miss the occasional glances they shoot at Yuuri, eyes beaming with enthusiasm and anticipation. It's cute, Victor decides, that they feel like taking such risks to impress their idol. If only Yuuri could see what a big impact he has in these young men's lives…

But Yuuri doesn't see it because he's curled up in a bench, deep in thought. He's contemplative again, about what, Victor isn't sure. But there is an edge to it, indecisiveness and nervousness, and Victor is at a complete loss on what to do. He has a feeling a stunt like yesterday's hug isn't going cut it this time around.

The tension doesn't leave Yuuri's shoulders as they head towards the rink, and it's visible even in the way the red string hangs stiffly from his finger. Victor is increasingly worried. Not because Yuuri might lose (with his lead from the short and his skating skills, he could downgrade all of his jumps and still win by a large margin), but because he wants the debut of Yuuri's new free program to be something Yuuri can be satisfied with. The last thing he wants is to see Yuuri disappointed if he's not able to perform to match his often too harsh self-imposed standards.

And then it happens. As Yuuri takes off his skate guards, his little fan Minami stares at him with expectation and adoration. And Yuuri blows him off with a huff, without uttering a single word as he heads to the ice for warm-up. The kid looks utterly devastated.

Victor stares at the scene with wide eyes. This is a side of Yuuri he'd never known and never expected to exist. He knows it's not that Yuuri dislikes the kid, but he's probably unaware of the weight his actions can have on someone who idolizes him. Though, when Victor thinks about it, it isn't strange that he doesn't realize it, given that Yuuri is very unlikely to even consider the possibility that anyone would idolize him. When Victor asked him why he didn't update his social media very often, he'd just shrugged and said "There's not many people who care either way". And Victor's jaw had dropped to the ground in disbelief as he stared at Yuuri's five-digit follower count. So it wouldn't be too farfetched to believe that Yuuri is completely unaware of how much young Minami looks up to him, even after knowing the kid had prepared a short program that was an homage of one of Yuuri's.

He is reminded of that fateful day in December, the day his eyes first crossed Yuuri's and he hadn't even recognized him as a competitor, so deeply lost in his ego and the apathy of being unable to surprise people anymore. Seeing Minami's heartbroken expression as he stumbles through his warm-up makes Victor feel even guiltier about what happened back then. And it also accentuates his frustration at Yuuri. Instead of getting so lost in his self-deprecation as to not realize how many people look up to him, he should feel motivated knowing he inspires many younger skaters, and he should motivate them in return.

" _Skaters, your warm-up has ended, please leave the ice."_

As Yuuri steps out of the rink, Victor hums disapprovingly.

"How can anyone motivate himself if he can't motivate others?" he asks, ponderously. His meaner side rears its ugly head once again "I'm disappointed in you, Yuuri." He finishes, dropping Yuuri's skate guards on the rink barrier with a snap and turning away coldly. He ignores the aghast expression on Yuuri's face and finds a seat at the back. He doesn't like being so harsh on Yuuri, more often than not he ends feeling guilty about it, but Yuuri _has_ to realize that there are people who admire him, who know how good he can be, even when he himself doesn't see it.

His eyes follow Yuuri as he heads towards the exit, likely to continue his warm-up excersices. He looks sullen and confused, even tenser than before. Victor hopes that his vague attempt at teaching Yuuri a lesson won't turn this whole event into a disaster.

Just as he ponders on that. Yuuri stops a few paces away from the door and turns to look at the ice, where Minami is standing.

"Do your best, Minami-kun!"

Victor's eyes widen briefly again. The crowd gasps in surprise. Minami screeches and almost trips with joy. And Yuuri smiles and cheers for Minami one more time before the music starts. Victor's chest swells with pride. He almost runs up to Yuuri, suddenly desperate to embrace him and apologize for his hard words earlier, but he holds back, allowing Yuuri to leave the room. As the music starts playing, he turns his attention to Minami on the ice.

The music is lively and the crowd claps to the beat of the song. Soon, Victor finds himself smiling and clapping too. When was the last time that he actually stopped to watch someone else skate in competition? He was always so swept up in interviews, warm-ups, autograph signing and posing for pictures, by the time he realized it the event was over and he was getting another gold medal which he barely had the time to contemplate before hopping on a plane to his next competition. It's refreshing to be so free, to be able to relax and get a taste of the men that will carry figure skating into the future. What kind of exciting things do they have in store? Minami Kenjirou, for instance, may be rough around the edges, but he is a true delight to watch. He oozes charisma and joy, and a relentless fighting spirit. Even when he makes mistakes, he doesn't let them bring him down, he fights back and recovers, always smiling, making the crowd cheer for him even louder. In a year or two, he could become strong enough to fight with the best of the world. Victor beams with excitement; he can't let Yuuri feel too comfortable with his spot as Japan's ace. There's just too much ahead of them, and he envisions that future with excitement.

* * *

Yuuri comes back around the halfway mark of the third competitor's program and the moment Victor lays eyes on him, his body is deprived of all oxygen. The fire and determination in Yuuri's face makes Victor clutch at his chest for a moment. This is exactly what he wanted from this competition, to see Yuuri motivated and confident in himself, determined to show them once again why he is Japan's ace.

When Yuuri finally reaches him (after giving Minami a harsh and –Victor assumes- encouraging slap across the back), Victor manages to compose himself for all of one second until Yuuri takes off his jacket, revealing his beautiful costume. The dark blue makes a lovely contrast with the brown of his eyes, the cut of the jacket accentuates his strong shoulders –further accentuated by the crystals- and thin waist. He remembers all the thought that went into designing it, how Victor had wanted to use his own trusted designer but Yuuri had insisted they go to his usual costumer, a local seamstress who, among other things, had crafted the kimonos Mr. Toshiya and Mrs. Hiroko had worn for their wedding. The meeting with the seamstress had been fascinating in itself, Yuuri had looked completely in his element discussing colors, patterns, cuts, crystals and everything in between. Victor had been delighted to know that Yuuri –unlike a lot of skaters Victor had met through his career- liked to indulge in beautiful, unique costumes. How could anyone expect to surprise anyone wearing a white shirt and a pair of dress pants?

"This costume really is great. It makes you look the most beautiful." Victor says without thinking, heart thumping loudly as his eyes roam over Yuuri's figure. He'd tried it on before, but it's a little different knowing he's about to compete, it feels even more dazzling.

To his surprise, Yuuri doesn't even flinch. In any other occasion, Yuuri would be quick to dismiss any praise whilst melting in embarrassment. It's why Victor doesn't often comment on it, even if he finds himself overwhelmed by Yuuri's beauty multiple times a day. Victor wants to hope Yuuri has finally started to realize and accept that he does deserve all the compliments he receives.

As he contemplates about this, he notices Yuuri's lips are chapped. Without even a second thought, he takes a small step forward, reaches inside his pocket for that very expensive Channel lip balm and applies a bit of it to Yuuri's lips with his index finger. The touch is casual, hardly thought, yet immediately electric. His finger lingers for a fraction of a second and his skin tingles with a surge of want. This isn't the first time in the last six months that he's thought of touching Yuuri's lips with his own. It's also probably not the last. But it is a thought that must be contained because Yuuri still can't see the string and Victor still doesn't know what exactly it is he wants.

Still, he indulges a bit, lunging forward and wraps his arms around Yuuri. It is awkward to hug Yuuri when he wears his skates and Victor doesn't, their height difference nonexistent. But it is also comforting in the way Yuuri hugs him back quietly yet firmly, and how the red string curls around them for a moment before Yuuri pulls away. Victor has a passing thought that he should've been saying some encouraging words, yet it feels like it was Yuuri reassuring him instead. He still has a long way to go as a coach.

When Yuuri turns his back on him and steps into the ice, Victor has yet another unforgettable memory of the time spent designing that costume, specifically the way his jaw dropped to the floor when Yuuri clearly and shamelessly stated he wanted the jacket to be longer on the front and be cut shorter on the back.

"I'm a little proud of it, so I want to show it." He'd said, and promptly placed his hand on his butt. The seamstress had been absolutely nonplussed by the statement, like Yuuri talked about it every other day. That was three months ago and a part of Victor is still gaping.

It is a fact, though, that Yuuri has a lovely _derriére_ and it'd be a waste not to show it off a little. He can't even say he's not appreciative of how the cut of the jacket accentuates it. And yet, just the memory of Yuuri's devastatingly confident statement back in the seamstress's workshop –and how perfectly that confidence had manifested in the final product of the costume- makes Victor shiver.

As Yuuri stands in center ice, head hung low and eyes closed, waiting for the music to start, Victor holds his breath. At last, the world will get to see Yuuri's love in all its glory, in the perfect, beautiful program they created together, the story of Yuuri's life, his struggles and insecurities, his passion and relentless determination.

It's a rough showing, for sure. Victor isn't sure of how he's gone so long without realizing Yuuri has such a strong competitive side, refusing to compromise for a single quad and a lower difficulty program. His jumps are messy and he's very stiff for the first half of the program (including the part that represents the moment Victor became his coach. I makes him irrationally upset for a brief moment), but it's very visible, how he starts getting more and more into the program, how he embodies every part of the story –his story- and fights his way through it, how every note, every swell of the music seems to emanate from every stroke of his blades on the ice and every move of his arms. It's all very messy and yet completely enchanting. Victor can't take his eyes away from Yuuri. Nobody ever could, really.

Then, of course, he does that third quad –charmingly stubborn- and slams his face against the rink barrier. Victor sighs, but decides not to scold Yuuri about it in spite of everything. This competitiveness is, perhaps, his way of showing he's taking this competition and the kids who admire him and that have also pushed their own limits today completely seriously. It makes Victor glow with pride. Without even thinking, he spreads his arms inviting Yuuri into a hug, only to have his vengeful side poke at the back of his brain at the last minute and remind him of how unhappy Yuuri had looked in that part of the program that represented Victor's arrival. So he steps aside and lets Yuuri faceplant on the floor. And now he feels guilty. Brilliant.

He makes up for it (he thinks) when the score comes out, huge in spite of all the mistakes, and he pulls Yuuri into a hug and rubs his cheek against Yuuri's, praising his ability to keep a high components mark –and maybe relishing a bit too much in how comfortable he feels hugging Yuuri now.

Later, he overhears Yuuri telling Minako and Takeshi that he had never had so much fun skating before and Victor's heart swells. The competition was a complete success.

* * *

"But Yuuri, why can't I go to the press conference with you?" Victor whines unhappily. He wants to be present for every part of this process, and after how well the Chuu-Shikoku Kyushuu competition had gone, he had imagined Yuuri would also be more comfortable around him.

Yuuri shrugs, like it's not a big deal. "It's a very small event, nothing too fancy. I just have to officially announce my theme, answer a couple of questions and pose on some photos. It won't be particularly fun, just protocol."

Victor groans unhappily. They never held this kind of events in Russia, so he'd really wanted to see how this one went and get a front row view of everyone's expressions when Yuuri announced his theme.

"Besides, coaches have to wait backstage and with all the noise you wouldn't be able to listen to the conference anyway."

The phrasing seems casual, but there is something about the way Yuuri says it, the tone of his voice and the look on his face that implies _more_. The string on his finger tightens a little

 _You wouldn't be able to listen._

Oh.

Whatever Yuuri's planning to say in that conference, he wants _Victor,_ specifically, to hear it.

Absentmindedly, he touches his hand over his heart as he feels it jump inside his chest.

"Okay, Yuuri. If that's what you want I'll stay right here and watch the conference with everyone else. I can't wait to see you dazzle them again."

Yuuri looks relieved by his response. "Thank you." He says with a small smile.

"Is Minako coming with you?"

Yuuri shakes his head. "It's such a small event it's not worth bothering anyone to come over. I can do it on my own."

Victor finds himself smiling. It's like Yuuri is telling him he wants to show him he's strong enough to face this challenge by himself. He really can't help the surge of pride that washes over him. Yuuri has come so far.

* * *

In spite of all that, he insists on dropping Yuuri off at Fukuoka airport, with Makkachin trailing behind them. When they stand by the boarding gates, he pulls Yuuri into a hug just slightly too tight. Yuuri hugs him back, even dares squeeze a little and that makes Victor ache. He realizes this might be the first time they'll be apart for more than 24 hours ever since he first came to Hasetsu. The realization makes the light, sharp ache in Victor's chest just the tiniest bit harsher.

"You'll call me if anything happens, won't you? I'll be right there beside you the moment you need me." He asks, wondering if he sounds too needy.

Yuuri pulls away from his arms and Victor feels cold right away. "I'll be okay, don't worry about it." He states, leaning down to pet Makkachin's head. It's not really an answer to Victor's question, but he doesn't press any further. If Yuuri says he can do it, there is no reason to doubt him.

At last, Yuuri turns around towards the gate, pulling his suitcase behind. Suddenly, the red string jumps and Yuuri stops a step short of the gate. "Make sure to watch it." He says, his voice a little shaky, "The press conference." He adds, turning just the slightest to face Victor.

The moment makes Victor keenly remember Yuuri's first time skating to Eros.

" _I'm going to become a super delicious katsudon, so watch me closely, please."_

Back then, he'd known he was done for, just from the tone of Yuuri's voice and the shine of his brown eyes. He knows it now, too, and that realization makes him shiver.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for anything."

The string loosens up and the smallest hint of a smile curls at the edge of Yuuri's lips.

* * *

"Mari-neesan, do you need help with the laundry?"

"I can take care of the reception for a few hours, Otousan!"

"Mama, should I clean the baths before the guests wake up?"

Victor is restless. Awfully so. He can't even think about sitting still, not with the nerves wracking his body. He can't stop thinking about what Yuuri said yesterday at the airport.

 _Make sure to watch it._

What is he planning to say? What kind of surprise is he preparing? What is so important that he's demanded Victor's focused attention? And how much will that ruin Victor's whole life? How much longer does he have to wait to find out?

Earlier, he did his morning routine, put in an extra hour of practice at the rink, jogged around town with Makkachin and came back to Yutopia to find it's barely nine in the morning. The conference is at 5. He can't even concentrate on his Japanese practice –and he really should, whatever Yuuri wants him to hear, it will definitely be said in Japanese for the reporters, and Victor doesn't want to miss a word of it. At a loss for what to do, he starts chasing down everyone at the inn, hoping to get some sort of chore assigned, to feel like he's doing something other than just waiting.

Unfortunately, nobody seems to want his help.

"Don't worry about it, Vicchan, Otousan will do it after he finishes sweeping the _genkan_."

Victor pouts, unhappily, "But Mama…"

It is not quite clear to him at which point he started speaking to Yuuri's family as if they were his own. It was Yuuri who noticed it first, one day coming back from the festival, when he'd called on Mama Hiroko to give her the souvenirs they had bought for her.

" _Victor, since when are you calling my mom like that?"_

Still completely unaware, Victor had cocked his head in confusion. " _Like what?"_

" _Mama._ " Yuuri had answered, blushing a little.

And truly, Victor had no idea. He'd said back then that he had probably started copying from how Yuuri called them, but he knows Yuuri doesn't use 'Mama'. Yuuri hadn't pointed it out, so Victor was content with letting that be the "official" explanation, but a part of him knew otherwise. He was still alone in a foreign country, constantly filled with doubts and worries about whether he's doing the right thing for Yuuri, with no one from home with whom he could talk, Yakov ignoring all of his calls (and Victor would "officially" tell himself he wasn't upset by it, no one needed to know anyway), and the Katsukis had all been so loving and warm and welcoming he couldn't help himself. And neither of them even bat an eyelid when he calls them like that. On days in which he doubts himself the most and feels too imperfect to let Yuuri see him in such a state, their nonjudgmental, natural kindness make him feel like he does belong here.

"Please, let me help with something, Mama; I've been freeloading here for too long." He pleads, desperate.

She smiles at him sweetly. "You're doing more than enough taking care of our Yuuri, I couldn't possibly ask anything more from you. You should enjoy your day off, why don't you soak in the onsen? It's early, none of our guests are using it, you can have the whole bath for yourself."

Victor sighs in defeat. There is no arguing with Mama Hiroko.

The baths are indeed empty when he walks in. He takes off his robe without much enthusiasm, washes off in the showers and steps outside to the open air bath, his favorite by far ever since he arrived in Hasetsu. There's something deeply calming about submerging his body in hot water while looking at the clear sky, hearing the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, feeling the cool autumn breeze on his exposed skin.

In the silence, his mind goes back to the first time he sat in this same bath, excited about this new adventure, yet anxious about the risk it implied. And he remembers finally getting to see Yuuri again after months of longing and waiting and how positively horrified Yuuri had looked. In hindsight, Victor is still not sure of why that had happened or why Yuuri had been so distant with him in those first few weeks. But it all seems unimportant when he thinks how close they are now. He looks at the red string fondly. Even if many things remain unclear, he's now certain that following it was the best decision he ever made. It truly has been a wonderful adventure, and there is yet so much more to come, starting with whatever it is that Yuuri has prepared for his conference, that he so keenly wants Victor to listen to.

Lightly, he tugs on the red string and wonders if Yuuri can feel it.

* * *

Yuuri always tells him he shouldn't stay in the bath for more than an hour, but he's desperate to lose a few more hours, so he lets himself get dizzy with the heat and doesn't leave the water until he feels there's a serious risk of falling asleep.

To his horror, only two hours have passed, and he still has four more to go before Yuuri's conference. He's not sure he can keep himself sane until then.

He paces around the inn nervously until Mari tells him he's spooking out the guests. Sulking, he retreats to the family's dining room and rest his head on the table, defeated. Has time ever gone by so slowly? Did Yuuri get him on edge on purpose, as a form of revenge for how mean Victor was during the two days of competition? _Just what is Yuuri planning to say_?

"Vicchan?"

Victor jolts. "Yes?"

"Are you busy? There are a few things I need a bit of help with."

He beams. "Yes! I'd love to help!"

Mama Hiroko chuckles lightly. The dimples on her cheeks remind him of Yuuri. "We have a lot of customers right now and Mari-chan is busy sweeping the yard. I need help in the kitchen and bringing everyone their food."

Victor nods in agreement. He hopes he can one day find a proper way to express how grateful he is for all the consideration Mama Hiroko has with him, making the extra effort to speak in simpler Japanese so he can understand her.

"Can you cook, Vicchan?" she asks, bouncing down the stairs ahead of him.

"More or less." He replies awkwardly. Having lived alone for the entirety of his adult life, he can cook a few very basic things, but with his strict training and dietary regime, more often than not he –like most of Yakov's more experienced pupils- ended using a special takeout service that focused on providing nutritious meals for athletes.

"I can teach you Japanese food then!" She says, smiling. "My secret recipes! So Yuuri won't feel homesick when you're overseas."

Victor claps his hands. "It's a great idea!" Given how Yuuri had initially linked his own concept of eroticism to, well, his favorite food, it made sense for Victor to learn how to cook something Yuuri liked. Specially… "Katsudon! Mama, can I learn how to make katsudon?"

She laughs as they walk into the narrow kitchen. "Well, everyone is ordering our Yuuri Special Set since the last competition, I have to make many of them today. An extra pair of hands would be nice." there's a knowing twinkle in her eye that Victor doesn't know how to interpret. He doesn't give it much thought and follows behind her, watching intently as she rummages through the cupboards and pulls out different utensils, a chopping board, knives, spoons, then moves to the pantry to get packages of flour and seasonings.

"Could you go to the storage room and bring a big sack of rice?"

"Sure!"

The rice part is way simpler than Victor thought, but everything else requires more steps than he'll probably remember. Hopefully Mama Hiroko can write him down a list of instructions. Still, he does his best to commit the process to memory, both to actually be of help here, and so he can surprise Yuuri at a later date. Although they're still strictly following the rules and Yuuri can't eat katsudon unless he wins. Victor has started contemplating the idea of cooking for Yuuri on his birthday, or during the off-season. He remembers how happy Yuuri was when they came back from Okayama and Mama had a large serving of katsudon waiting for each of them to celebrate his victory.

As he struggles to bread the pork without making a mess of egg and panko all over the kitchen counter, he realizes he's been thinking of Yuuri all day. It's not exactly surprising given the circumstances, but it is slightly unsettling. At what point had his life come to revolve so thoroughly around Yuuri? He pulls at the red string and finds it covered in flour and egg, so he wipes it clean without thinking how weird it would look to an outsider.

Minako had said the two parties would be able to see the strings when their feelings "matched". Victor has gone over that conversation so many times in his head he can recite it by heart, but he still doesn't understand what that means. He's tried to find anything online about it, but apparently Minako was right in that it was an ancient and obscure belief, there is close to no literature about it in English, and although he can converse quite effectively in Japanese now, reading is a whole different beast.

Of course, the fact that he himself isn't entirely sure of what his feelings are doesn't make it any easier. He knows there is love between him and Yuuri, but love can mean so many things. There is Eros and Agape but it doesn't stop there either. There are so many things and people Victor loves. Like Makkachin, or the ice, or that amazing designer chair currently gathering dust in his apartment in St. Petersburg. He loves Yakov and their training rink, but he also loves Hasetsu, the onsen, shochu, the Katsukis. And he loves Yuuri. But what kind of love is it? Shouldn't it be more precise, clearer, specific? And how can he expect Yuuri to match his feelings when he doesn't understand them himself?

"Vicchan? Vicchan, the fire!"

Victor is yanked out of his thoughts by the smell of burning and Mama Hiroko struggling to put down the fire and pulling the piece of meat off the pan and into a separate plate, after which she waves her hands to clear the smoke. Victor watches with dismay as the cloud of smoke vanishes into thin air and the piece of meat he was supposed to watch is revealed to have turned into chunks of charcoal black.

* * *

Victor sulks pathetically on a table closest to the TV, wishing the earth would swallow him alive. He's never been the type to get overly embarrassed, but he's sure Mama Hiroko's troubled expression as she threw away the ruined piece of meat will haunt him to his grave. Even if Mama had tried to reassure him with her usual kindness, all he could feel was crushing guilt.

"Oi, Victor."

He looks up from where his face is buried in his arms and finds Mari sitting next to him with a slightly amused expression.

"I heard what happened in the kitchen." She comments with a tiny, cheeky smirk.

He moans miserably. "I'm sorry for causing trouble."

She waves her hand, dismissively. "Mom thought it was funny. I'm sure she'd let you try again if you wanted."

Once again, he just groans. He couldn't possibly ask Mama to let him help again after proving himself so useless. He's a grown, capable adult, but he's given Mama such a horrible first impression, she must think he can't even take care of himself.

"Do you really want to help out around here?"

He perks up at that, glancing up to see her lighting a cigarette nonchalantly. He nods without hesitation. The Katsukis have been unbelievably kind since he first arrived, of course he wants to repay that kindness in whichever way possible.

"Teach us some English."

Victor's eyes widen in surprise.

"We didn't have a lot of foreign guests before so we've been able to manage with just basics, but there's been so many foreigners since you came here. It's become pretty troublesome, especially if Yuuri's not around. Mom and Dad would find it very useful if you could teach them a bit."

Victor's chest swells with excitement and he claps his hands once. "I'd love to do that!" he beams.

She smiles, blowing a puff of smoke from her mouth. "Cool, we can talk details later. Yuuri's conference is about to start."

Victor's heart jumps as Mari reaches for the remote and flips through the channels. Some of the guests complain, but they're immediately silenced by Minako, who comes bursting into the room like a hurricane and chastises them.

"Yuuri's press conference is more important than Sagan Tosu's game. They're gonna lose anyway!"

"They could still turn it around!" One of them argues weakly, but concedes. What he says next, Victor isn't entirely sure of, the words lost under the man's thick Kyushu accent.

"Are we late?" Yuko's voice comes from the back of the room, agitated, Takeshi and the triplets tailing behind her.

"Right on time Yuko-chan, it's about to begin!"

"It's Yuuri's conference, there will be no service until it's finished!" Mama Hiroko announces as she bounces into the room, and the customers just hum in understanding.

The ruckus seems to summon Makkachin and soon Victor is huddled in front of the TV, surrounded by the Katsukis, the Nishigoris, Minako plus a dozen guests sitting at the various tables laid across the room.

The ISJ logo appears on screen and everyone goes quiet.

"Do you need translation?" Minako asks, in English.

 _Make sure to watch it._

Victor shakes his head. He wants to listen to Yuuri's words directly, like he was asked to.

Reporter Morooka appears on screen and starts describing the event. Victor misses a few words here and there, but for the most part, he understands. He can hear the camera flashes going off one after the other. The skaters are grouped in one corner, six ladies plus Yuuri, each holding a writing board. Yuuri had explained they would be asked to describe their theme or goal for the season. Victor already knows what Yuuri has written in his board, and still, his fingers curl with nervousness.

"Next we have a skater who is pulling ahead Japan's Mens' singles as its ace, Katsuki Yuuri." Morooka announces. "Please, go ahead."

Yuuri steps forward towards the mic. He's wearing a black suit with a crest on the left side of his chest and an ugly blue necktie. Victor gasps. _The_ ugly blue necktie. The one he was wearing that night in Sochi. His heart jumps just remembering their dance. Is it on purpose? Is Yuuri trying to send him a message by wearing that necktie?

"Uhm… your theme for this year? Skater Katsuki?"

After standing there in silence for a moment, Yuuri finally flips his white board and lays it on the stand at the center of the stage. There is just one kanji written on it with Yuuri's quick, snappy penmanship. 愛。Victor knows it. 'Love.' The crowd gasps and whispers.

Yuuri grabs the microphone firmly.

The red string quivers with anticipation. Victor holds his breath.

"My theme for this year's Grand Prix Series is "Love"." He says, his voice soft and quiet. A few whispers go around the room. Victor clutches Makkachin tightly to his chest. "I've been helped by so many people throughout my skating career, but I'd never thought about 'love'. I've never taken advantage of the support I've been blessed with, and so I've always had the feeling that I was fighting alone. But since my coach Victor showed up, the world I've been able to see has changed completely. What I mean by 'my love' is not a type of love that is easy to understand; it's my bond with Victor and the complex feeling I have for my family and my hometown. I was finally able to realize that something like love exists all around me. Victor is the first person I've ever wanted to hold on to. I don't have a name for this feeling but I decided to call it 'love'. Now that I know love and have become stronger for it, I'll win a gold medal at the Grand Prix final to prove it!"

Victor is vaguely aware of the world around him. Of words and cheers and noises and movement. Yet all he can really hear is the loud, steady beat of his heart. And it's like he's alone, in darkness, with nothing but the small image of Yuuri smiling and waving at the camera, and his words pounding inside Victor's head over and over again.

 _Victor is the first person I've ever wanted to hold on to._

His pinky finger tickles, the red string twisting and curling and jumping, like it doesn't know what to do with itself. _Victor_ doesn't know what to do with himself. But he is aware of the warmth that floods his veins, and that bubbling feeling growing inside his chest, ready to burst at any moment.

 _I don't have a name for this feeling, but I decided to call it 'love'._

And he takes a deep breath, feels himself smile and stretches his pinky, the string hangs loose. Because Yuuri, as always, is right. It's not easy, it's not clear-cut, it's not bound by any labels, it just _is_.

Love.

* * *

Victor really wanted to pick him up at the airport, but Yuuri insisted otherwise. " _My flight arrives too late, it's a waste of train tickets_ ", he'd said. So Victor waits, long past the hour when everyone has gone to sleep, sitting by the door, his ears perked for the smallest of noises. Makkachin pants by his side, clearly sharing the excitement.

He fidgets nervously, his eyes alternating between the door and the red string. What will Yuuri say when he arrives? Will he want to talk about it? Will he be embarrassed? How long has he been planning this? Since when did he become able to see the string? With how Yuuri wears his emotions on his sleeve, Victor is surprised he was able to keep it a secret and even plan such a bold, public statement about it. Then again, it was also Yuuri who did that beautiful interpretation of Victor's program and put it out to the world as a beckoning call five months ago, even before knowing they were bound by fate. And now here they are.

Suddenly, the string springs to life and there's the sound of footsteps on the stone path. Victor leaps to stand, heart beating fast in his chest.

"Yuuri!" Victor spreads his arms wide the moment the door opens. When their eyes meet, Yuuri inhales sharply, and immediately smiles, taking the leap into Victor's arms like it's the most natural thing in the world. Victor's heart sings. "What a wonderful speech! We will definitely win the Grand Prix Final with the power of love, I can feel it!"

Yuuri blushes, taking a step back from Victor's embrace. "I'll- I'll do my best." He says, suddenly remembering to take his shoes off.

Victor's still too ecstatic and he lifts his pinky finger with pride. "And finally!" he declares, bouncing with excitement.

"Huh?" Yuuri looks up from the shoebox and quirks an eyebrow when he sees Victor's raised pinky "O-okay then, it's a promise." He steps up to the tatami, standing right in front of Victor, and laces their pinky fingers, shaking their entwined hands thrice before pulling apart. To Victor's surprise, he giggles. "I haven't done something like this since I left for America. I think it was with Yu-chan."

Victor's brain goes into a confused frenzy. "What? With Yuko?" Didn't Minako say the red string was like a link between soulmates? Could a person have more than one red string of fate?

Yuuri nods pensively. "Yeah, I don't think I've made a pinky promise since that time I promised Yu-chan to stay in touch…" he looks up at the ceiling in contemplation. "Now that I think about it, I didn't really keep that promise."

A pinky promise.

 _Ah._

If he weren't so confused and disappointed, Victor would slam his face on the nearest wall. Yuuri still can't see the string.

 **To be continued**

What do you mean of course it didn't take me almost a year to update.

OTL

I'm really sorry about such a long delay. Episode 5 was very hard for me to crack, especially figuring out the right way to convey the tension between Minami and Yuuri from Victor's perspective and then finding the right gravitas for the crucial press conference scene. I'm not even entirely sure that I got it right. Especially because in the anime, there's a crescendo to how Yuuri delivers his speech that is hard to convey in just text. Toyonaga did such a wonderful job voicing Yuuri, I could never dream of matching that ;-;

I hope you guys are still with me on this, I absolutely haven't abandoned this story and I'm really looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter. And thanks for sticking with me in spite of my horrible update schedules!


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